


Coffee, Tea or Me?

by Cecilia1204



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Set in Sydney, sexy Sandor, toolbelts, tradies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecilia1204/pseuds/Cecilia1204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark runs a cafe with her best friend, Margaery when a tall, scarred tradesman walks in to order coffee.  How was she to know that the sight of a toolbelt on a pair of enticing hips would set off lust-fuelled fantasies involving sexy tradies who know how to use their 'tools'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After reading inordinate amounts of Sansan fics, I've decided to dip my toe into the fandom with this short, silly, fluffy story. This is my first fic for this fandom as I make my way through the books, so I'm rather nervous about it. It's set in a modern AU as I'm not confident enough to venture into cannon yet. The story is set in Sydney (why not?) and won't be very long. Having said that, I seem pathologically unable to keep my stories short, so who knows! The character's will probably seem out of character but I figure in modern times, with advances in surgery, Sandor wouldn't have gone without some sort of skin grafting and he's not so much of a grump :) Hope you enjoy.

 

 

It was a hot, stinking Sydney summer’s day when he first walked into Sansa Stark’s little café.

Impossibly tall, muscles severely straining the stitching on the utilitarian t-shirt he wore and dark shorts covering his taught, tight behind. Below the shorts, his tanned, hairy, oak-like thighs tapered down to his muscled calves before ending in scuffed, dirty, steel-capped boots.

Sansa, standing behind the counter taking another order, looked up to see the new customer walk in and quickly did a double-take.

His sheer size caught her initial interest which then moved to his face. To her internal shock, her first glance took in the severe burn scars on the left side of his face, sympathy for how much that must have hurt filling her. Then she admired the rest of his rugged face, the grey eyes, strong brow and longish black hair that was currently tied back in a man-bun, in deference to the heat. All in all, quite an attractive face, despite the scars.

Then she looked down, eyes widening as she took in the rest of him, liking it very, very much but it was when she saw what he wore at his waist, that she was lost. Well and truly lost.

He wore a tradesman’s belt, slung low over his hips, almost like a sword belt from medieval days, various tools hanging from it.

Sansa accidentally sent the completed milkshake order that Margaery had just placed next to her flying, milk spraying over the counter and floor, narrowly missing the milkshake’s owner.

Holy hell! This guy was the sexiest man she’d ever seen and that tool belt had her melting like an ice-cream out on the bitumen pavement.

The saying that ‘tradies get the ladies’ definitely applied in this instance, Sansa feeling hot and cold chills run through her body as pure lust seized her.

“Sansa!” Margaery’s voice broke the spell. Their employee and friend, Jeyne, rushed back from clearing a table to help clean up the mess.

Sansa looked up and blushed tomato red when she saw the slight smirk on the stranger’s face as he watched her clumsiness. _Like that goes really well with my red hair_ , she lamented to herself.

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa quickly apologised to the customer, ignoring Margaery’s quizzical look as her friend re-made the ill-fated milkshake. She took up the cloth under the counter to mop up the milk just as the tradesman stepped up to place his order.

It was like the electrons in her brain decided to take the rest of the day off as she stood there, unable to decide whether to clean the mess or take his order first, her eyes straying to the tool belt, unable to miss how well he filled out the front of his shorts.

“Clean up the mess first, miss. I’ll wait,” he rasped, the sound of his voice, like rock grinding on rock, sending further shivers up her spine. It was so low and throaty, with it’s Scottish accent almost a growl and it seriously did things to her system.

_Talk Sansa! Take his order, you idiot!_

“It…” her voice came out in a high squeak as she looked at his face, her eyes naturally going straight to the scars, which this close up looked almost like plastic before meeting his eyes, that had narrowed in either annoyance or anger. Cheeks reddening again, she cleared her throat and attempted to sound like a moderately intelligent adult. “It’s ok. I’ll take your order first. I’m sorry about my clumsiness.”

“Stop apologising, girl. Shit happens,” he replied harshly before asking for a double-shot espresso to take away.

Jeyne had started wiping down the counter, so Sansa nodded her thanks as she moved to the coffee machine. As she worked, she’d look up, see his eyes on her and blush again. After what seemed like forever, she placed his coffee on the counter and put a lid on it. His large hand dwarfed the small cup as he picked it up, nodded his thanks and turned to leave the café.

Sansa just stood there and watched his taut behind as he moved, the tools swaying with each step. She couldn’t help the sigh that left her as he exited the doorway, wondering if he would ever come back. Probably not, after that display of hers.

“What was that about?” murmured Margaery as Sansa turned to help Jeyne with the clean up.

“Nothing,” replied Sansa, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “Just me being clumsy.”

Margaery looked at her speculatively. “It didn’t have anything to do with that big guy, did it? It’s a shame about the face but that body…whew!”

Her words annoyed Sansa, who felt stupidly possessive and protective about some guy she’d probably never see again. “I didn’t really notice,” she said with fake nonchalance.

“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t,” teased Margaery. “You could not get your eyes off his toolbelt…or what was beneath it.”

Sansa blushed bright red again. “Shut up, Marge,” she mumbled as she moved past her, ostensibly to clear a table but mostly to get away from her friend’s knowing chuckle, knowing how much Margaery hated that nickname.

After closing up that afternoon, Sansa climbed the stairs to the apartment she rented from Margaery’s family which happened to be above the café.

She had met her friend when they were both students at Sydney University. Sansa had not long moved to Sydney from the southern highlands where her family owned ‘Winterfell’, a large property outside of Bowral and was living with her cousin, Jon, who was a police officer, hoping to become a detective one day. Margaery came from a prominent Sydney family and they met in the same class, hitting it off right away.

It wasn’t long into the semester that Sansa came to the realisation that her goal to gain a political science degree was more her father’s wish than hers. She continued on, though, while working at a boutique café near the campus. She didn’t need the money, strictly speaking, as her father was quite generous with an allowance but she enjoyed the freedom that her own money gave her, knowing she could do what she wanted with it, without answering to anyone as she had earned it herself. By the end of the year she was missing more classes than she was attending, preferring to take extra shifts at the café, with the subsequent consequences. She would have to take summer classes to make up the shortfall, she was informed, if she wanted to be able to continue the following year.

She confessed to Margaery that she got more enjoyment at the café, interacting with ordinary people, than she ever did mixing with the upper class friends her family had and the thought of dealing with the intrigue and backstabbing of the political world made her ill. She had had a taste of it with her boyfriend in high school, Joffrey Baratheon, who, despite attending one of the most prestigious boys’ schools in Sydney, turned out to be a complete arsehole. After he hit her the first time, she had told her family, who promptly cut off their association with the Baratheon’s, after they tried to make out that Sansa had goaded him into it.

When Margaery asked her what she wanted to do with her life instead, Sansa admitted that she would love to have her own café, serving the best coffee and delicious food, that people would come back to because of the friendly, welcoming atmosphere.

Expecting her friend to laugh at her dream, saying that she was too high-class for something like that, she was shocked when Margaery admitted that it sounded like a lot of fun and that they should just bite the bullet and do it. Margaery had her own trust fund and was willing to go halves with the business.

After that, they both decided to drop out of uni and enrol in a Small Business course to begin in the New Year. In the meantime, they would work on deciding the kind of café they wanted to have and how to tell their respective families of their decision.

Christmas back at Winterfell was decidedly tense when Sansa told her parents what she had done, particularly with her mother, Catelyn, who thought such a venture was beneath her. Her father, Ned, was worried she hadn’t thought it all through properly and this was just a whim that would peter out eventually.

The arguments and discussions carried on over the Christmas period but eventually her parents relented when they realised how serious Sansa was and when they saw the preliminary work she and Margaery had already done with regards to their vision for their business. Catelyn was still skeptical but acquiesced in the face of the rest of the family’s support.

Arya, her younger sister, thought it was a great idea and offered to help design the layout. She was going to study graphic arts in the new year and figured this would make a great project for her course. Sansa thanked her for the offer and said that they would certainly look at it in more depth when they found a location.

In between studying, planning and scouting for a good location, the months flew by. The girls looked over much of Sydney, before settling on a property that was owned by Margaery’s family. It was in the gentrified suburb of Balmain, which was now a popular place for people looking for diverse eateries with a relaxed atmosphere.

The property was built of Sydney sandstone which had been renovated and held a good size area opening out onto the sidewalk and was close to the bus route, meaning it would be handy for people to stop in to pick up a drink or snack on the way to work.

For Sansa, the clincher was the fact that there was a fully renovated apartment over the shop, accessed by stairs at the side of the property. She fell in love with it as soon as she saw it. It was light and airy, very important with the Sydney humidity, and had large windows with a view to Sydney Harbour, the famous bridge in the distance. The two bedrooms were a good size with an ensuite to the master. The main bathroom had its own claw-footed bathtub, in keeping with the colonial style of the area and Sansa almost squealed when she saw it. The modern kitchen and the living area which led to small balcony through French windows sealed the deal. She could imagine herself coming upstairs after a long day in the café, sitting on the balcony with a cool drink and good book, the blue waters of the harbor shimmering in the distance.

With her father’s attorney, Jory Cassell, doing the legal work for her, she and Margaery took up the lease on the property, Sansa additionally leasing the apartment.

When the two girls opened the shop door with their new keys for the first time, they walked into the empty space, grabbed each other’s shoulders, and jumped around like lunatics in their excitement, their laughs echoing off the brick and timber walls.

After that, it was nearly three months of work to fit it out according to their vision. As promised, Arya had come up with a design that incorporated their personalities with the period style of the building and area, leaving a space that was warm and welcoming. The local council encouraged the use of the sidewalks for seating, promoting a café culture, so they had seating outside, except in the most inclement of weather. Inside was a mix of tables as well as nooks with sofas and comfy chairs for those who wanted a place to relax and chat with their friends. Arya designed their menu board and her metal-smith boyfriend created some unique pieces to add to the décor, including their light fittings.

She had also introduced her friends Hotpie and Lommy who had just completed their culinary course. Hotpie, Sansa just shook her head at the nickname, was a whizz at any type of pastry or sweets while Lommy preferred the chef side of things, whipping up dishes that Ayra raved about.

Sansa and Margeary debated over the wisdom of hiring them, with so little experience under their belts, but after tasting their food, they realised that they were all inexperienced and that they would learn together. Hotpie didn’t actually want to work in the café; instead, he supplied all their bread, pastries and desserts each morning, delivering them before the doors opened. Lommy did work with them, designing the menu as well as cooking the food. The girls agreed to hire help for him if it became necessary, depending on the success of their venture.

Now, nearly a year after opening, the business was doing well enough to hire help for Lommy and had built up a reputation with the locals as a welcoming place to meet up that served good food and great coffee.

Shucking off her shoes, Sansa grabbed a leftover salad from her fridge and a glass of juice before making herself comfortable on her balcony, enjoying the sea-breeze that was beginning to spring up, easing some of the day’s heat.

As she ate, her thoughts drifted off to the hunk of a tradesman that had caused her to act like a complete klutz in front of him. Sansa moaned in remembered embarrassment. She supposed that if she never saw him again, it wouldn’t matter but that thought made her vaguely depressed.

“Stop being such an idiot,” she mumbled to herself. “He’s probably married or something even if he does come back. You see plenty of good-looking men each day.”

But none had ever caused the type of reaction the big man, with his sexy tool belt had given her. She giggled as she imagined the come-on lines she would like to use on him if he ever came into the café again:

_Is that a hammer in your tool belt or are you just happy to see me?_

_Can I hold your spanner for you?_

_Is that measuring tape long enough for you?_

_I really need a screw…driver._

Shaking her head, Sansa picked up her stock inventory list, firmly pushing the ridiculous thoughts from her head with some work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm reception to the Sansan fandom! It's really appreciated, I promise you. And thanks so much for the comments, kudos and bookmarks. You are all wonderful!
> 
> And now, without further ado...

There was a lull in the cafe, so Sansa was bent over, picking up a napkin beneath one of the tables closest to the door when she felt the rush of air as it was opened by a customer. Straightening, she stepped back, right into what felt like a brick wall.

A pair of hands grabbed onto her upper arms to steady her, but she was close enough to feel a hardness poking into her lower back. Her eyes widened in shock. That couldn’t be what she thought it was, could it?

“Careful, girl. You’ll do yourself an injury,” rasped a deep voice, the Scottish burr instantly identifying its owner.

_He’s back! He’s back!_ thought Sansa as her bones seemed to liquefy from the heat that emanated from his body. Unconsciously, she leaned back further into him, the hardness thrilling her with its salacious appeal before coming to her senses.

What was she doing? Molesting a customer? The heat bloomed instantly in her cheeks as she moved away and if she imagined that the hands holding her tightened fleetingly before letting go, she knew it was only part of her lust-fuelled imagination.

Turning around, she came face to chest with the tradesman from yesterday and this close up, his body was even more spectacular. The t-shirt he wore was thin from multiple washings and she could see the various ridges and dips of his chest and abdomen. A quick glance down confirmed that the hardness she felt had actually been his tool belt, not what she had feverishly imagined, somewhat to her disappointment.

Hastily looking back up, her eyes took in the thatch of chest hair that grew upwards to join with the neat beard that covered his jaw except where the burn scars were. Finally looking into his grey eyes, she saw a mix of amusement and something she couldn’t pinpoint but it sent a thrill through her.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, sir,” she stammered, attempting to get a hold of herself. “You must think I’m…”

“Sandor.”

“W…what?”

“My name’s Sandor, not Sir,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course,” she nodded. “I’m Sansa. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were that close. I’m not usually so clumsy, I promise…”

“Can I get a coffee?” he interrupted her babbling.

“Yes! Oh god, what am I doing? Of course you can. That’s what we are, after all, a coffee shop,” she prattled nervously, as she hurried behind the counter. Jeyne had taken her break during this quiet time so Sansa was the barista on duty. Luckily Margaery was out meeting suppliers so she didn’t witness Sansa’s mortifying display.

“What can I get you?”

“A double-shot espresso,” he repeated yesterday’s order. “And I’ll have one of those chocolate croissants.”

“Of course, sir! And I must say that you’ve made a good choice. My friend, Hotpie, makes all our baked goods and he is a genius with pastry.” She knew she was jabbering but she couldn’t seem to help it.

The big man, Sandor, just looked at her as if she was slightly touched in the head before she realised that she hadn’t even started making his coffee.

Oh god! Snapping out of it, she jumped behind the coffee machine, hoping the shiny chrome would hide her embarrassment. She had her long red hair tied up, as she usually did while working, so she couldn’t even use that as a shield.

While she prepared the coffee, she could feel his grey eyes on her, assessing her. _Probably wondering what institution I escaped from_.

As the coffee poured, she got his pastry. “Make that two, if they’re as good as you say they are.”

“You have my word on that! I doubt you’ll find a better chocolate croissant in all of Sydney. The pastry just melts in your…”

“Do you always chirp endlessly?”

That stopped her in her tracks. “Well…” Unable to say anything else, she simply handed over the coffee and pastries and silently rung up the total, Sandor leaving with a faint nod.

Moving behind the coffee machine, Sansa groaned silently as she put her head in her hands. _God, he thinks I’m an idiot!_ One day, she could barely speak a word, the next she’s prattling like a complete lunatic. _At the very least, I could have asked him some questions about himself rather than carrying on about croissants_.

When Margaery returned in time for the lunch-time rush, she noticed straight away there was something off about her friend. When questioned, Sansa denied anything was wrong, but Margaery was like a dog with a bone. She had a sixth-sense about these things. She discreetly, for her, asked Lommy if he knew anything but he had been in the back preparing for lunch, so he was no help. Jeyne didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so Margaery was back to square one.

By the afternoon, her patience was gone. Lommy had gone home and there were only a handful of customers, who had chosen to sit outside to enjoy the summer’s day, so other than Jeyne, they were alone in the shop.

“Right,” said Margaery, “sit down.” Unable to ignore the demand, Sansa sat at one of the empty tables. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. My bullshit detector is going nuts at the moment, and you know that’s it’s virtually infallible.”

Sansa sighed. It was one of the things she hated about her friend at times. It was almost impossible to lie to her. “It’s stupid, and I don’t know why I’m feeling this way.”

“What’s stupid? What happened?”

“Remember that tradie from yesterday? The big one?”

“With the scars?”

“Yeah, him. Well, he came in today again while you were out and Jeyne was on her break.”

“So?”

“So, I made an absolute fool of myself!” wailed Sansa, dropping her head onto her folded arms. After a few moments, she opened one eye to see her friend sitting there, totally befuddled. “First, I backed into him and I could have sworn for a moment that he was sporting an impressive erection but it turned out to be only his tool belt. Then I could not stop talking crap, I was so nervous, until he actually called me out on it. He’s thinks I’m an airhead, I know it!” Her head went back into its cradle, hoping to shut out the world.

For a heartbeat, there was no sound, until Margaery’s laughter broke the silence. Her peals of laughter rang around the shop, making Jeyne peer at her curiously.

“It’s not funny!” protested Sansa. “I’m dying here!”

“Yes it is,” replied Margaery, trying to get herself under control. “It’s hilarious. I wish I had been here. I would give anything to have taken a pic of your face when you thought he had a stiffy.”

“I didn’t even know it was him, at that point. My back was to him. It could have been anyone,” replied Sansa, starting to see the funny side now.

“How disappointing to find out he was only sporting a hammer, not a hard-on,” deadpanned Margaery, before dissolving into giggles again. Sansa couldn’t help but join in considering the absurdity of it all.

“What is it about this guy, that has you acting like a twelve year old with her first crush?” asked Margaery when they were both calm enough.

“I don’t know!” At Margaery’s look, she continued. “Honestly, I don’t. He’s not conventionally handsome but there’s that body, and that voice. God, that voice! I just want to drown myself in it, and he’s barely said anything other than to order coffee – and tell me to shut up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, well, not in so many words. He has that effect on me, either I’m mute or I talk like a rabbit on speed.”

“You have the complete hots for this guy, don’t you?.”

“God yes,” sighed Sansa.

“So, you’ve got to find out if he’s interested back,” said Margaery logically.

“I don’t know anything about him other than his name. He could be married or have a girlfriend, for all we know.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sandor.”

“Sandor?” exclaimed Margaery, excitedly. “Sans, it’s fate, can’t you see?”

“What are you going on about?” replied Sansa in confusion.

“Sandor. Sansa. Your names are almost the same. If you got together I could call you 'SanSan'. How cute is that?”

“Stop it, you idiot,” said Sansa, shaking her head at her friend’s silliness.

“What are the chances of someone called Sandor walking into our little coffee shop, when there’s a number around here he could have walked into instead. It’s fate, I tell you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact he probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

“You’ll just have to change that impression. We’ll have to find out if he’s single, too. No point mooning after someone who’s taken,” said Margaery sagely. She then eyed her friend curiously. “So, you really don’t mind the scars?”

Sansa shook her head. “Honestly, after the initial surprise, I didn’t even really notice them today. I’d love to know how he got them, though. It must have been so painful, poor man. He’s got gorgeous eyes though, and shoulders, and pecs, and…”

“I get the picture. What’s a few scars when the rest is built like a Greek god?”

“Exactly. Still, I’m just being silly fantasising over a customer who’s been in here for ten minutes, tops.”

“Nothing silly about it, at all. I perv on customers all the time,” Margaery said blithely.

Sansa laughed. “I know. You’re such a flirt.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Sitting up with determination, Margaery fixed her eyes on her friend. “Ok, girlfriend, first things first. We are going to find out all we can about Sandor. Then, if all system’s are go, you are going to seduce him.”

Sansa spluttered in shock. “What the…?”

“Oh, come on! As if you don’t want to roll around in the tool shed with that tradie,” she scoffed. “You’re almost like a bitch in heat.”

“Marge!” gasped Sansa, not sure whether to be offended or not.

“You want that man in your bed or not?”

“Well…well, yes, but…”

“But, nothing,” replied Margaery. “This is the first time I’ve seen you show interest in a man since I’ve known you, and it’s not due to lack of offers. I’ve seen numerous guys ask you out. Why that Harry guy hangs off your every move. I think he single-handedly contributes to half our profits, he’s in here so often.”

“Ugh!” grimaced Sansa. “That creep.”

Not long after the shop opened, a young man in a business suit had come in for a cappuccino and had dramatically stopped dead when saw Sansa at the counter. Spewing those lines that wouldn’t even work in a pantomime, he’d introduced himself as Harold Hardyng and proceeded to ask her out, pointing out that he was extremely eligible and sought after. As if that would impress her. Trying to be polite to the customer, Sansa had declined as gently as possible. Unfortunately, Harry’s arrogance had decreed that she was simply playing hard to get.

He became a pest to all the staff when he proceeded to come in every day they were open, repeating his invitation to the point that Sansa had threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop harassing her. He didn’t believe her, so Sansa had co-opted Jon to come in and play the heavy, hoping to scare the little shit. Jon put on a masterful performance, managing to look menacingly powerful, telling Harry that if there was another call put in to the station from the ladies of the shop about his behaviour, he would lock Harry up with the worst sexual predators who didn’t care whether he had a dick or not.

Needless to say, Harry backed right off, still coming in for coffee, but not talking to the staff, just ordering and leaving. He still watched Sansa but as he hadn’t crossed any lines, they didn’t have a reason to barr him from the shop. He even tried to avoid having Sansa serve him as much as possible, something she didn’t object to at all.

On occasions when Sansa had Margaery and Jon over for dinner, they would still laugh at the look of pure terror in the young man’s face at the prospect of spending the night in a cell with some predator.

“Anyway,” continued Margaery, “I’m just pointing out that men are interested in you, but you’ve lived like a nun, until now. It’s somewhat refreshing.”

“And you want me to seduce him?”

“How else are you going to get him in your pants?” asked Margaery. “So, you are going to practice your small talk when he comes in, flirt a little, find out little bits about him.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” groaned Sansa. “I just get all weird when I see him.”

“Try. I’ll try to find out if he’s single for you. It won’t look so incriminating if I do it.”

“I’ll help too, even though he’s rather scary-looking,” piped in Jeyne. The two girls turned around, having forgotten that Jeyne was in the room with them. “I don’t know, I might be able to get some info out of him. Three heads are better than one, aren’t they?”

“Bless you, Jeyne,” smiled Margaery. “I think between the three of us, we’ll get Sansa laid yet.”

Sansa spluttered a laugh, shaking her head.

“So, Sansa, do fancy him banging you in nothing but his steel-capped boots?”

Margaery was the recipient of a well-aimed tea towel to head for that remark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and for the kudos. It's very much appreciated and I feel terribly loved :)  
> I hope you like this one. I've put some translations for non-Aussie's at the bottom as there's a couple of terms you may not get (we're weird like that!).

Over the next few days Sandor would come in around the same time, always ordering the same thing: a double-shot espresso and two chocolate croissants. Sansa couldn’t help feeling a silly tingle of delight that he had obviously agreed with her assessment of Hotpie’s pastry.

True to her word, Margaery would try to strike up a conversation whenever she served him, but to her immense frustration, and Sansa’s secret amusement, Sandor would not co-operate. She plied him with the trademark Tyrell charm, trying desperately to draw out some information about him but Sandor would just fix his steely gaze on her and remain silent, other than to order his coffee.

“God, Sansa, he’s harder to crack than Mount Everest!” complained Margaery as they closed up for the day.

Jeyne had similar luck, but then, she didn’t ask as many questions and despite trying, she was too shy to attempt anything too personal. They doubted that the result would have been any different to Margaery’s.

If she was in the shop on those occasions, she would look up from what she was doing and their eyes would meet before Sansa would continue what she was doing, trying desperately not to blush, but watching Sandor surreptitiously the whole time, mentally sighing over him.

This morning it was Sansa who served him, and she was so conscious of not babbling in front of him again, that she just took his order and proceeded to pour his coffee without saying a word.

“Not going to talk to me today, Little Bird?” he rasped in that sexy voice.

The shock of hearing him call her that almost caused her to scald her hand on the hot liquid.

“W-what? What did you call me?” She turned her head to see him peering down at her, definite amusement in his eyes now.

“’Little Bird’, due to your habit of chirping,” he replied with a smirk. “Though, you haven’t said a word today,”.

“I thought it annoyed you last time, and I don’t want to annoy my customers,” she replied, feeling somewhat miffed.

“So this is your café?” he asked, ignoring her remark. “You don’t just work here?”

Taken aback that he had actually asked her a question, she had to collect herself before she spoke, in case she started rambling again.

“Yes, Margaery and I own it.” Short and to the point.

Sandor nodded. “Good coffee,” he remarked as she handed him the cup.

“Thank you. We pride ourselves on sourcing the best coffee beans we can get.” As she bagged his croissants she felt his eyes on her, watching her every movement. It was unnerving as well as setting her senses into overdrive.

Handing him the bag, their fingers brushed against each other and Sansa’s pulse raced. It was a fleeting touch, but she knew she would be daydreaming about it for days.

With a nod, Sandor turned to leave. On impulse, she called out, “See you tomorrow, Sandor.”

His footsteps faltered at her voice. She didn’t think he would say anything but he replied in a low voice, “See you tomorrow, Little Bird,” without looking back.

She watched him walk out of the shop, taking in his broad shoulders and muscled back that tapered down in a ‘V’ to his hips. She noticed for the first time that he walked with a slight limp but that thought was instantly replaced by the sight of tanned, hairy legs as he strode out. There was no tool belt today, but that didn’t detract from the view.

Sansa couldn’t help fantasising about those strong legs supporting her weight as he took her up against a wall. She was imagining his lips moving down her chest towards…

“Sansa!” Jeyne’s voice dragged her from her lustful thoughts. “Wow, Sansa! He actually talked to you! He barely says a word to Margaery or me. I think he might like you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she replied, though in truth she couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach.

“That’s the most I’ve seen him talk since he first came in here. And it was you he spoke to. That has to mean something, don’t you think?”

Sansa wanted to laugh at the realisation that she and her friends were acting like kids at primary school with the ‘I think Johnny likes you,’ and reading into every little action or word spoken by said crush, except she wanted to do more with Sandor than just hold hands.

“I still don’t know anything about him,” Sansa pointed out.

“I think you’re going to have more luck finding that out than we are,” said Jeyne with a grin. “And he told you he’s coming back tomorrow.”

Sansa just grinned like a loon.

Margaery had been on her break when Sandor came in but she walked in with a smile like the cat that got the cream.

“You will never guess what I just found out!” she exclaimed as she joined Sansa behind the counter. Sansa just looked at her. “I found out where Sandor’s working!”

“Where?” asked Sansa excitedly.

Unfortunately, a group of customers came in just then, so the conversation had to wait until there was quiet moment.

“So, where is he working?” prompted Sansa.

“Only three blocks away on a property being renovated,” replied Margaery.

“How did you find this out?” asked Sansa, intrigued.

“I followed him,” came the smug reply.

Once again, more customers came in so Margaery hurriedly threw out, “I’ll come up to your place after we close. I’ll tell you everything then and my idea,” as she turned to serve them.

After closing, the girls picked up a pizza before heading up to Sansa’s place. They got settled on the balcony with their food before Margaery revealed all.

“Tell me. How did you find out where Sandor’s working?” asked Sansa, waiting impatiently while Margaery finished her bite of pizza.

“I was walking back to the shop this morning when I saw him come out with his coffee. I noticed that he walked away in the opposite direction, instead of getting into a car, so I decided to follow him.”

“And he didn’t see you?”

“No and I made sure I walked far enough back that I wouldn’t look suspicious. Had to duck behind a car once when he turned the corner and looked in my direction but I don’t think he noticed me.”

“Are you sure? What if he did?”

“So? It’s a public street. I was just walking, wasn’t I?” replied Margaery, loftily. “Anyway, three blocks away he turned into a property being renovated that had all the safety fencing around it. I didn’t get too close in case he did see me but now we know where he is during the work days.”

Sansa nodded. “Yeah, but what good does that do me?”

Margaery just looked at her and shook her head in mock despair. “Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. What am I going to do with you?” She received only a quizzical stare. “Sansa, my girl, you are going to do what women have done for time immemorial.” A dramatic pause. “You are going to stalk the man.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_What am I doing?_

Those words were repeating in an endless loop through Sansa’s head a few days later as she made her way through the streets towards Sandor’s worksite. And not just walking, no, but in disguise as well.

“Are you nuts?” Sansa had asked her friend. “What will that achieve?”

“God, you’re so naïve,” had replied Margaery. “Obviously trying the get any information out of the horse’s mouth isn’t working for us so it’s time to change tactics. Now that we have a tangible starting point, you will go down there and suss out the lay of the land. There has to be some information about Sandor there. He’s a tradie, isn’t he? Well, he must work for someone. And there’s more than likely some sort of signage indicating the company carrying out the work. If you find that out, we can go on the ‘net and see if we can’t find out his surname. Once we have that, we can see if he has any social media accounts. If he has a significant other, then there will surely be a picture of her on there. If not, well, we’ll know we can ramp up the ‘shag the sexy tradie’ campaign then.”

Sansa looked speechlessly at her friend. “You’re dangerous. You know that, don’t you?”

“When Willas was in the Army, before he was injured, he studied the art of modern warfare and often told us interesting facts when he came home on leave. And one of the roles that I was really interested in was that of the military tactician. I’ve appointed myself the military tactician of our little venture. Where one strategy doesn’t work, a good commander will change tactics to achieve the desired outcome.”

“So, Sandor is a military campaign?”

“On a small scale, yes,” agreed Margaery with a nod. “We have an objective: Wild, crazy sex with the Sexy Tradie. And no military campaign will ever commence without all the intelligence gathered beforehand to determine the best course. So, you are going get as much intelligence on Sandor as possible. Starting with going down there and finding out his company’s name.”

When Sansa had protested that she would be too embarrassed to just walk up to the work site, Margaery had calmly stated that she should wear some sort of disguise.

Margaery was like a bulldog when she got something in her head, so here she was, her bright red hair bound up underneath a wide-brimmed floppy hat and wearing sunglasses that nearly covered her whole face walking through the narrow streets of Balmain to her destination.

Coming around a corner, she caught sight of the fencing that secured the property that Sandor was apparently working in. Not about to walk right up to it, Sansa ducked behind one of the cars as she gathered the courage to get closer. She garnered a suspicious look from an elderly lady walking her dachshund and she felt like going back to the shop right this instant.

_There has to be another way. Maybe the three of us, along with Lommy, can pin him down next time he comes in the café and force him to give up all his secrets._

Balmain, being one of Sydney’s oldest suburbs, had narrow streets that were normally filled with parked cars as many homes did not have garages, having been built long before cars existed. The suburb had originally been a working-class suburb, with a mix of formerly worker’s cottages and terrace houses fronting onto the streets but over the previous few decades had become ‘gentrified’ and was now one of Sydney’s most expensive places to buy. Being so close to the city and the Harbour, it was popular with young professionals, and the cars on the road reflected that.

Except for the one black, battered ute that was parked in front of and slightly on the footpath of the worksite. It was as large as that type of vehicle got before it could be classed as a small truck and stood out like a sore thumb amongst the smaller, shinier European and Japanese models that dotted the street.

It has to be his, thought Sansa. It was obviously a work vehicle, bits of timber overhanging the edges. From this distance, she could also make out writing printed on the side door. As there didn’t seem to be any signage on the fence other than the obligatory safety warnings, she hoped that the writing would give some clue as to Sandor’s identity.

Being a work day, and after Sandor’s regular visit to the café, at this time there wasn’t a lot of pedestrian traffic, much to her relief, other than the odd person walking a dog or mother pushing a pram, so she slowly made her way up the street, ducking behind each car as she got closer, in case he came out of the property.

Sansa realised that she would probably look less suspicious if she just walked up to the ute, but in a way, this was much more fun. It was almost like being a spy, imagining herself as Ros from the show she loved, Spooks, stalking a Russian spy with her partner, Lucas. She could almost hear the obligatory spy music in her head and had to stop herself from giggling at the absurdity of her situation.

The closer to the property she got, the more careful she was. Pulling down the brim of her hat, she would check that there was no-one coming from the property before moving behind the next car. If Sandor caught sight of her right now, she would want to throw herself under a moving car in embarrassment.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, what with crouching, and then trying to make it look as if there was a reason for it, like checking the tyres, when someone did walk past, she stood next to the ute, but on the street side, not the curb, in case Sandor did come out.

Looking at the terrace house where he was working, it looked to be well in the process of renovation, with scraps of material littering the small front yard. The outside cement work had obviously been repaired and repainted as well as the delicate grille-work on the upstairs balcony railing, so Sansa assumed that whatever Sandor was doing to it was inside the house. The door was open but she couldn’t see movement.

Being a narrow street, cars came worryingly close to her as they passed, so she took a deep breath, a final look at the house to make sure no-one was looking out and stepped onto the curb, phone at the ready to take a photo of the sign on the passenger door.

As she took the photo, a huge mass of fur and muscle lifted its head from inside the tray and gave one loud “WOOF”, bad breath and faint drops of dog spittle hitting her face as she tripped over her own feet in her fright.

Sansa had always enjoyed the Matrix trilogy, especially the scenes where time slowed down as Neo ducked and dived to avoid bullets, bent back in impossible angles. Right now, she felt like she was in a really bad version of that movie and could almost see herself falling backwards in slow-motion, phone flying from her hand, hat being ripped off her head as she landed, glasses askew, red hair spilling out to cover her face, all the while being watched by a large, dribbling dog leaning out of the utility tray.

Breath knocked out of her for a few moments, everything seemed to stop for an instant as she wondered why she was lying on the ground and why all she could see was red and her glasses were half hanging over her mouth. Regaining her senses in the next instant, her only thought was to get out of here before anyone witnessed her humiliation.

“What are you doing, Little Bird?”

Looking up through the strands of hair, her eyes travelled up endless miles of tanned legs leading up to that, oh, so tempting tool belt.

_Shit!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Suss out - investigate, check out, etc  
> Ute - short for "utility" - generally a work vehicle with a tray on the back. Think 'pick-up truck'. Beloved of Aussie tradies (and non-tradies) everywhere!  
> Pram - baby stroller  
> 'Spooks' - brilliant English spy series that starred my beloved Richard Armitage as Lucas North *swoon*
> 
> If there's a term you don't get, don't hesitate to ask me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your wonderful comments and kudos. Seriously, I'm having so much fun with this fic, it's ridiculous. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one - Sansa makes progress. Yay!
> 
> If there's any terms you don't understand, don't hesitate to ask.

_Shit! Crap! Crap! Shit!_

The very thing she didn’t want to have happen, happened. Lying there like a useless ragdoll, the bemused face of the man she was in lust with looking down at her and a monster of a dog staring and dribbling and probably wondering if she would make a good snack. Her mortification was complete.

“Are you ok?” Sandor’s gruff voice was laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

 _How the hell do I explain this one away?_ Excuses and explanations raced through her head, each one more lame than the next. _I know! Deflect! That’s it. Act like lying on the pavement in the middle of the day is something you do every day._

“Sandor! Hi! Fancy seeing you here!” she exclaimed brightly, the words coming out muffled due to her enormous glasses obstructing half her mouth.

One eyebrow raised, Sandor bent down to help her up. Removing the glasses, she sat up abruptly as she pushed her hair from her face and cried out in pain when her head connected with his jaw. What was it made out of anyway? Steel?

“Fuck! Sorry about that. Not your day, is it?” he murmured.

Scrambling awkwardly to her feet, all thoughts of pain fled as she felt his large, warm hands circle her waist as he all but lifted her to her feet. She imagined she could feel every single calloused finger through her t-shirt. She also felt the twinge of some bruises that would surely show up in the next few days.

Though her humiliation seemed worth it if it meant she got Sandor’s hands on her.

“No, it’s my fau…”

Looking up in something of a daze and rubbing the sore spot on the top of her head, she came face to face with the brown-eyed stare of the beast in the ute.

_WOOF!_

“Shut up, Stranger!” growled Sandor, his grip tightening as Sansa stumbled back in fright. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

Amidst the pounding in her ears and pulse at Sandor’s touch, his words filtered through. “Me? Hurt him?” she asked, looking back up into his eyes. He was so close she was near to swooning. He smelled so manly. A mix of deodorant, wood and something indefinable. She took as deep a breath as possible without making it obvious she was sniffing him.

“Yeah, he’s a wuss. A big, scary-looking wuss,” he replied, staring back at her.

_Help!_

“Is he yours?”

“Yeah.”

“What breed is he? He’s so big.” Like his owner.

“Bull Mastiff. He’s nothing but a big boofhead under all that muscle and fur. Aren’t you?” he called out affectionately to his dog. Stranger’s tongue lolled out as he wuffed and huffed in pleasure at his master’s attention.

Sandor seemed to suddenly become aware that he was still holding onto her waist and he abruptly let go, much to Sansa’s disappointment. Stepping back, he bent down to pick up her phone, and she had to resist the urge to run her hand over the rippling muscles in his back.

“It doesn’t look damaged,” he commented as he stood and handed her the phone. “You were lucky. What…”

Sensing he was about to repeat his initial question, Sansa frantically thought, _deflect, deflect, deflect._ “Are you working in this house?” she asked, pointing at the building. “What do you do?”

Sandor looked at her, his grey-eyed gaze boring into her as if he knew what she was doing but he went with it anyway. “Yeah. I’m renovating the inside. Mainly the woodwork but some of the other stuff, too. I’m a carpenter by trade.”

“Do you work for yourself?” she asked, elated that she was getting him to talk this much.

He pointed towards his ute. “Like you, I like to be my own boss. Just my partner, Bronn, and me.”

Sansa read the signage on the ute. ‘Three Hounds Classic Home Renovations’ was written on it with a phone number. “Your partner? Business partner?” Oh god, if he was gay, she would shrivel up and die.

Sandor looked at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. Great big guffaws. To the point where he bent over holding his stomach. Settling down to just chuckling, he shook his head. “Bronn’s pretty good-looking, I guess, but he’s just not my type. I prefer my partners to be of the feminine persuasion, Little Bird.”

In for a penny, in for pound, as the saying goes. “I bet your wife is happy about that!” she quipped, mentally crossing her fingers.

“No wife or girlfriend. Just boofhead over there,” he replied, pointing at Stranger.

Sansa could have fallen flat on the ground again in relief. _He’s single! He’s single! YAY, he’s SINGLE!_ Trying to hide the roiling emotions whirling inside, she smiled at the dog. “He’s lovely. Do you always bring him to work with you?”

Sandor shook his head. “No, not very often. He was just looking a little off-colour this morning so I thought I’d bring him with me to keep an eye on him. I’m leaving soon anyway,” he replied, eyeing his dog thoughtfully.

“Oh, poor thing. I hope he’s feeling better,” cooed Sansa as she smiled at Stranger. “Do you think I could pat him?” She liked dogs, but hadn’t had one since her dog, Lady, died from old age a few years ago. And if it made getting into Sandor’s work shorts easier, well…

“Sure,” he replied, moving toward the ute. “Stranger, this is Sansa. She makes great coffee, so be nice.”

Sansa laughed as she stepped forward, holding out her hand. Stranger sniffed her hand eagerly, before giving it a wet, sloppy lick. “Hello, boy. You’re not so scary after all, are you?” she cooed as she reached up and pet his head. The dog seemed to grin at her words, his body trembling in pleasure at the attention he was receiving. “No, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

She didn’t notice the keen look Sandor was giving her, intent as she was on the dog. Giving him one last pat, she stepped back and turned to Sandor. “Well, I’d better get back to the cafe before the lunch crowd starts.”

“Why _were_ you in the area?”

 _Oh crap! Think Sansa!_ “Oh, ah…um…err…I…I was…um…canIhaveyourbusinesscardasmymumisthinkingofrenovatingherhouse?” she blurted out, mentally giving herself a facepalm.

Sandor frowned in confusion. “What was that?”

“Do you have a business card? My mother was thinking of renovating and maybe she can contact you for a quote.” Sansa had no idea if that was the case, but, whatever.

He didn’t look convinced and he had to have noticed her blatant evasion of his original question but he still nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let me get one from the ute.” Unlocking the passenger door, he leaned in as he searched, giving Sansa an excellent view of those tight bum cheeks. Like peaches she could sink her teeth into. Much too soon for her liking, he straightened, handing her a slightly battered card.

“Bronn generally carries them as he does most of the quoting but he’s not here today,” he explained, handing it over.

Not wanting to risk getting questioned again, she quickly grabbed the card and put it in her pocket, intending to study it intently once she got a chance. “Thanks. Gotta go, Sandor. Bye Stranger. Be a good boy, ok?” She took a couple of paces before turning back. “See you in the café, Sandor?”

He nodded. “Have those croissants ready for me, Little Bird.”

She smiled at him. “Definitely.”

With a wave, she walked back toward her café, elation zipping through her. Disaster had turned to triumph.

Sandor stood and watched her the whole way until she was no longer in sight.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Before re-entering the café, Sansa raced upstairs to her place to quickly get changed. The cream coloured crop pants she wore had come off second best to the bitumen pavement. Running a brush through her hair to put it in a ponytail, she winced as the bristles scraped over the slight bump where her head had connected with Sandor’s jaw.

Leaning toward the mirror, Sansa could see the faint redness right at the hairline. How could someone’s head be so hard? That thought naturally led onto what other parts of his body were hard.

Daydreaming, she imagined what he would look like in his underwear. Someone that size _had_ to be sporting an impressive package, didn’t they? What kind of underwear did he wear? Briefs, boxers or boxer briefs? Did he go commando? She really didn’t care because ultimately, she wanted him out of them anyway.

When she noticed her breathing become slightly laboured and felt the tingling in her nether regions, she shook herself out of it. She still had to get back to work.

Wait until she told the girls what had happened!

Quickly pocketing Sandor’s business card, she locked up and raced downstairs to the café.

It was starting to fill up with the usual lunchtime crowd, so Sansa wasted no time getting behind the counter. At Margaery’s questioning look, she mouthed ‘later’ before turning to smile at the next customer.

Finally, as it was getting near closing, the two girls stood behind the counter cleaning. Unable to wait a moment longer, Margaery blurted out, “How did you go?” Jeyne, who was wiping down tables looked up, equally interested.

Sansa smiled smugly before producing the business card with a flourish. “Ta da!”

Margaery squealed while Jeyne raced back to the counter in curiosity. “Show me, show me,” she cried, grabbing at the card.

The three stood, heads together as they peered down at the dark yellow business card. It had three black hounds, the type you would see in medieval heraldry, along the top and underneath was the business name, ‘Three Hounds Classic Home Renovations.’ Beneath those words, they hit the jackpot. ‘Sandor Clegane and Bronn Blackwater’, followed by the business number.

“Sandor Clegane!” breathed Sansa dreamily. “I love it.”

Margaery looked at Sansa in astonishment. “How…how did you get your hands on this? You didn’t break into his car or something, did you? You were only supposed to take a photo…”

“No, silly,” giggled Sansa. “That would be going too far, don’t you think? Besides, his dog would have probably eaten me alive if I’d tried that.” Sorry Stranger, she thought, a little guiltily.

“What dog?” asked Jeyne, eyes round with curiosity.

“Listen, how about you guys come upstairs after we close and I’ll tell you the whole sordid story,” suggested Sansa with a laugh.

She was bubbling on the inside. She couldn’t help it. Her humiliation had turned to triumph.

And he was single!

Using what she had in the pantry, they cobbled together some dinner and Sansa cracked open a bottle of her favourite sweet wine, a Brown Brothers Pink Moscato, pouring each girl a generous drop.

As she told her tale, the other two were in hysterics. Jeyne was holding her stomach and Margaery had her head in her hands, her body shaking from laughter.

“Oh god!” she choked out between guffaws. “Why was I not there? What must he have thought to see you lying there on the ground?”

“Good thing you weren’t wearing a dress,” giggled Jeyne. “He really would have seen what was on offer then.”

“I know! All I could think of was how I was going to explain me being flopped in front of his car like a drunk jellyfish,” laughed Sansa. It was hilarious now, not so much at the time.

“He didn’t ask?” said Margaery, taking another gulp of her moscato between lingering giggles.

“Yeah he did, but somehow I managed to deflect and he didn’t push it, thank god. I think between me nearly breaking his jaw and asking if he was gay, he probably thought it wasn’t really that important.”

There was silence before Jeyne gasped. “You…you asked him if he was…gay?”

“Not in so many words,” replied Sansa. “I asked if this Bronn was his ‘business’ partner.”

“How did he take it?” asked Margaery, fascinated. “He never gave me those vibes at all.”

“He laughed,” shrugged Sansa. “Uncontrollably. Then I may have asked about a wife.” She pretended to study her nails.

“And?”

“Aaaaaand,” she grinned at her friends. “He’s single, ladies!”

With a _whoop_ the girls hopped up, grabbing Sansa and jumping up and down on the spot in a huddle.

“This calls for more wine,” declared Margaery. Sansa grabbed another bottle from the fridge, refilled their glasses and waited as Margaery prepared to make a toast. “To Sandor Clegane, hot tradie and object of Sansa’s erotic dreams. May he remain single long enough for Sansa to rip that tool belt off that ridiculously well-built body and shag him in every way known to man or woman kind, and even make up some new positions, hitherto undiscovered, until neither can walk straight. Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Falling back onto the sofa, the girls grinned at their silliness and Sansa felt a huge rush of affection for the two of them, grateful to have such good friends.

“Let’s see if he’s got any social media accounts!” suggested Margaery. Sansa grabbed her laptop and they huddled around the screen as they loaded Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr to begin with.

Their search didn’t yield any results under Sandor’s name. “Not much for this sort of thing, huh?” commented Jeyne.

“Let’s try under his company name,” said Margaery. “He’s bound to have that. It would be madness not to, these days.” Margaery’s other brother, Loras, had set up their website and both Margaery and Sansa ran their Facebook and Instagram accounts. It was the way of advertising in this day and age.

They googled Sandor’s company and a surprisingly slick webpage opened up. It contained a number of pictures of previous works, as well as testimonials from satisfied customers. There were no pictures of Sandor, though, much to Sansa’s disappointment.

His Facebook page was more of the same. They searched through his ‘Friends’ list but it was mainly other companies and suppliers, nothing personal. It was quite frustrating. How was Sansa to know what he was in to if he didn’t put anything onto his status?

His Instagram page was a bit more helpful. As well as the pictures of his past renovations, there were also pictures of Stranger and a couple of another man, similarly dressed in work clothes.

“He’s cute,” commented Margaery. “Must be Bronn and he’s probably the one that looks after the page. Oh, look!”

There was a picture of a room in the middle of renovations, drop sheets on the ground, as well as ladders and wires dangling from ceilings. What caught their attention was Sandor, wearing goggles and protective gloves, bent over a bench saw, pushing on a large piece of timber. His hair was tied back, exposing the long column of his throat. It was his arms, though, that Sansa fixated on. They looked slightly sweaty and the muscles bulged as he held onto the timber, the material of the short sleeves strained to breaking point.

Another picture nearly made her choke on her own saliva. Sandor was carrying some timber and he must have overheated because he had taken off his shirt and tied it around his hips, leaving his torso bare. All bulging, hair-covered chest exposed. Unsurprisingly, this photo had more ‘likes’ than most of the other ones combined.

_Oh my!_

“ _Very_ nice,” said Margaery, Jeyne nodding in agreement.

“I’m screen-shotting that,” breathed Sansa, fanning herself with her t-shirt. This picture would definitely be her favourite when she lay in bed, thinking of her hunky tradie, and needing to release some of the tension those thoughts caused.

The girls left soon after, Sansa heading to bed after clearing up and taking a quick shower. She pulled up Sandor’s picture as her hand crept down into her underwear. Looking at his chest and arms and thinking of his hands touching her, it didn’t take long for her body to clench in pleasure, his name released on a sigh as she climaxed.

That night, she had the best sleep she’d had in ages.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More San San interaction as well as some lingerie shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to all of you for making writing this such a fun experience. You are wonderful!

The next time Sandor came into the café, the heat bloomed in her cheeks as Sansa could not help but picture him without his shirt on and remembered what she used that picture for. It seemed indelibly imprinted on her brain.

The girls gave her knowing smirks and made sure she was the one to serve him, moving aside to serve other customers or undertake some task.

Sansa noticed he was dustier today than he usually was, his hair covered in a light layer. She wanted to offer the use of her shower, with the proviso that she be the one to scrub his back. No, best not to. Yet.

“Good morning, Sandor!” she greeted him with a bright smile as she looked into the grey depths of his eyes. Her own then slid briefly to his scars, the grooves of which seemed to collect the dust more than usual. She imagined that in his line of work, he’d have to be careful to keep the damaged skin clean. Not that it detracted from his sheer, masculine sex appeal any, in her opinion.

“Morning, little bird.” His eyes drifted from her rosy face up to her hairline. “Any lasting damage? You look flushed,” he commented, pointing at the spot where their heads had clashed.

“No, it’s fine. Really,” she murmured, feeling her face get even hotter. _It’s only that I’m using your picture to get myself off, that’s all_. “Thanks for asking. How’s Stranger?”

“Back to his usual self.”

“That’s wonderful. I hate it when our pets are sick,” sympathised Sansa. He nodded in agreement. Wanting to keep him here for as long as possible, she searched for something to say. “Tough day?” At his puzzled look, she pointed at his hair. “You’re covered in dust.”

Sandor reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. Sansa wanted to swoon as his t-shirt rode up slightly, giving her a glimpse of tanned skin. Dear god, she could have reached over and licked it, if she hadn’t been standing in her own shop, surrounded by other people.

Looking at his hand, Sandor shook his head. “Ah, yeah. Sanding today. The dust is a bitch. Gets into everything.” He rubbed the scarred side of his face, looking at her intently, as if to see if she displayed any disgust.

As if! Sansa nodded her head in sympathy. “I can imagine. I remember when they were doing up this place. Thought we’d never clear the mess.”

Sandor looked at her intently for a moment before turning his head to look around him. “Did a good job.”

“My sister, Arya, did a lot of the designing. I love it.”

With a final look of approval he turned back to her. “Got my croissants, for me?”

Disappointed that he was getting back to business, Sansa nodded. “Of course. And the usual coffee?”

“Aye.” That Scottish burr!

As she worked, their eyes kept meeting then looking away again. Did she imagine that his eyes would wander down towards her cleavage, modestly displayed in the v-neck t-shirt she wore before looking back at her face, or hands, or behind her?

On placing his coffee and croissants on the counter, Sansa noticed a piece of wood shaving stuck to his shoulder. As Sandor bent slightly to place his money on the counter and pick up his order, Sansa, taking her courage in her hands, reached up to pluck the shaving off him.

It felt like slow-motion, her hand brushing the soft material. In the fraction of time it took, she felt the hardness of the muscle as well as the softness of the hair that tickled her fingers. Reluctantly, her fingers dragged themselves from his body, the offending piece of wood between them.

Sandor stiffened at her touch, his startled gaze meeting hers. There was a thrum of electricity between them, and it seemed as if neither breathed for a instant. Sansa had never felt such an intense thrill race through her before.

The sound of tinkling china roused them from the bubble they were in. Sandor blinked, as if he were waking up from a daydream and Sansa blushed again at her audacity. Those grey eyes then bore into hers, a question in them.

Smiling nervously, Sansa held up the wood shaving, showing him the evidence. “It...it was stuck to your shoulder.”

He nodded slowly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Picking up his cup, he turned to leave and a brain-wave came to Sansa. “By the way, if you can’t get here to get your coffee, if you’re too busy to down tools or whatever, we can deliver to you.”

Sansa glanced at Margaery, who was currently delivering an order to a table, thankful that she didn’t hear her blatant lie. They didn’t deliver as they didn’t have enough staff for that, but this was just another strategy in Sansa’s campaign. Margaery would applaud it, for sure. And they would only deliver to one person. And Sansa would be the delivery girl.

“You can?”

“Sure! We don’t generally spread that news around, so keep it under your tool belt, and we only do it for our best customers, but I would consider you one of those,” she replied, nodding vigorously.

“I am?”

“Of course. You’re here almost every day and you love Hotpie’s croissants. You definitely qualify.”

Sandor seemed a little stunned that he was placed in their non-existent VIP category.

“Well, then…”

“Here, take my number. Call me if you need coffee delivered,” she urged, looking for a pen to write the phone number down. One appeared in front of her, warm from being in his pocket. Deliberately brushing his finger as she took it, she wrote on the back of a loyalty card. She didn’t know if he registered that she was giving him her personal phone number, not the store one. “There you go.”

He took the card, looked at her writing before taking out his black, rather battered-looking wallet and placing it amongst the notes. “Thanks, Little Bird.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Sandor,” she replied, smiling her most charming smile at him. “Hope your day gets better,” she called out as he began walking away. Not expecting any reaction, she was thrilled when he turned his head, the good side facing her, and he gave her a tiny smile in return.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You did what?”

As she cleaned out the coffee machine, Sansa told Margaery about her offer to Sandor. “I made up some bullshit about delivering to only a select few of our favourite customers.”

Margaery shook her head in disbelief. “And I thought I was bad.”

“Hey, you were the one who called this a military campaign. I just employed a new strategy, is all.”

“And what if he calls during our busiest time?”

“You and Jeyne can cover for a little while, can’t you? Besides, I’ve been thinking we need to employ someone else, even if only during the rush times. Maybe a mum looking to work part-time during school hours would be interested.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same,” agreed Margaery. “I think I know just the person. I was talking to that lovely lady, Gilly, who comes in regularly and she mentioned that she was a bit bored now that her youngest started kindy a few weeks ago. I’ll have a word with her when she next comes in.”

“That’s a great idea. She’d fit right in.”

“Good. Now, about Sandor.”

“What?” asked Sansa, suspicious about Margaery’s tone.

“I’m thinking, if you’re going to be delivering coffee to him, you need to up your underwear game.”

“Huh?”

“Geez, Sansa!” huffed Margaery. “Just when I think you’re learning, what with offering a non-existent delivery service to your hunky tradesman, you give me that blank look.” Moving closer, she continued. “When, if, you have to deliver that coffee, you may as well deliver that with a free eyeful of what could be on the menu, if you get what I mean?” she murmured with a sly wink.

“Marge! I’m not going to walk the streets of Balmain in skimpy clothes to deliver Sandor his coffee!” protested Sansa.

“Not skimpy. Just…just a little more teasing,” refuted Margaery. “Maybe change into a singlet top or something a little more filmy. While wearing sexy lingerie underneath. Just enough to hint. Whet his appetite.”

“I can’t work in here looking like that.”

“You live upstairs! Run up while Jeyne or I get his order ready, change, and then go out to him. Honestly Sans, if he doesn’t get the hint after that, then maybe he really isn’t interested,” Margaery pointed out.

“I’ll have to buy some new stuff. Most of my underwear is pretty plain.”

Margaery clapped her hands. “If there’s anything I like more than shopping, it’s shopping for sexy underwear. You and I are going into the city and we are going to load you up with ammunition. Sexy Sandor won’t know what hit him.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

True to her word, the next day the café was closed, Margaery came by in the morning, had breakfast with Sansa before they set off. Rather than driving into the city, they decided to catch the ferry to Darling Harbour and then walk the short walk up to the city centre.

It had rained the day before, so everything had that clean, fresh feel and the Harbour sparkled under the bright sunshine. Sansa loved sitting outside as she enjoyed the sights of the numerous ferries, yachts and the occasional ocean liner that littered the Harbour, particularly on a weekend. As many times as she had travelled on Sydney Harbour, she never failed to be astonished at its beauty, framed by the Harbour Bridge, almost as iconic as the famed Sydney Opera House.

It was a relatively short journey from Balmain to Darling Harbour that passed the old piers that had been converted into multi-million dollar apartments, and the new public space, Barangaroo, with it’s sandstone foreshore and greenery, filled with people enjoying leisurely strolls and picnics. It was hard to believe that it had been a shipping dock, loaded with containers and imported cars, only a few short years before. Darling Harbour itself had been a derelict goods train yard until nearly thirty years ago and was now a premier entertainment area, filled with restaurants, bars and parks, and always a hive of activity, especially at night.

Deciding to get straight into some serious shopping, the girls walked the few blocks to Pitt Street Mall, the main shopping area. They started at the large department stores, where Sansa picked up a couple of gorgeous matching sets, decorated with bows and frills. Margaery led them to La Perla, who stocked some exquisite lingerie.

“I love this place,” sighed Margaery. “I’ve lost count of the amount of money I’ve spent in here.”

An hour and a half later, Sansa walked out of it with balconet bras, push-up bras and their matching bottoms, as well a couple of lacy teddies and a gorgeous corset in white with pale blue lace and ribbons, matching pants and thigh-high stockings. It cost a grotesque amount of money, but Sansa couldn’t help smiling as they walked out.

“When Sandor sees that corset, he is going to bust a ball,” laughed Margaery. “Maybe both.”

“Well, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” giggled Sansa. “I want those balls in one piece, thank you very much.”

“Don’t you mean two pieces?”

“As long as his ‘tool’ is in working order, I don’t really care,” came the retort.

After a leisurely lunch, they shopped a little more, Sansa buying some more revealing tops as advised by her friend.

Shopped out, they walked back to Darling Harbour, deciding to stop at the Lindt Café to treat themselves to one of their divine hot chocolates before catching the ferry back to Balmain.

“Well, I think you have enough ‘arsenal’ there to take over a small country,” quipped Margaery.

“I’ve spent so much today,” replied Sansa shaking her head. “I can’t remember the last time I spent so much money on underwear. Or clothes, for that matter.”

“Consider it a gift to yourself, Sans. We’ve worked really hard this last couple of years and I’m proud of us. The café’s going great, we have built a loyal clientele and we have great staff. I think we deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Sansa nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve put all our efforts into our business and it’s paying off.” Reaching out, she took her friend’s hand. “Thank you, Margaery. For everything. For befriending me; for encouraging me to do what I really wanted to do with my life, not what my parents wanted for me; for being a wonderful business partner and finally, helping me with this thing I have for Sandor. I’m lucky to have you.”

Margaery’s hand tightened on hers in response as her other wiped at her eye. “Stop it! You’re going to make me ruin my makeup and I wear little enough of it these days that I want to look stunning for a while longer,” she replied with a shaky smile.

“You don’t need the makeup to look stunning, Marge.”

“Thanks. Neither do you. And I’m lucky to have you, too!”

Enjoying their drinks, they chatted a while before making their way back to the ferry pier. Being summer, it would be a while before the sun set, but the afternoon sea breezes had blown in as usual, making Sansa’s hair swirl around her head.

After disembarking, they walked the few blocks back to her apartment, picking up some Chinese food on the way.

“Hey, want to come to the Bath’s tomorrow?” asked Sansa as they ate on the balcony. “It’s promising to be a hot one.”

“Sure, why not?”

The Dawn Fraser Bath’s were a Sydney institution, now named after the famous Australian Olympic swimmer. It was a harbour tidal salt-water pool that had been around since the 1880’s. During low tide, there was a small beach for the kids to build sandcastles and was frequented all year round, even in winter, though Sansa was not that keen.

It was a short drive, or, if she was feeling energetic, a slightly longer walk. It was likely to be busy and parking was at a premium, so she suggested they walk and cool off once they got there. There were kiosks there to buy lunch.

Sansa suggested Margaery stay over and she could borrow one of her bikini’s and clothes the next morning. Tired after their long day, Margaery accepted happily. They watched some sappy romantic comedy that they both loved before heading to bed. Sansa was so tired, she barely spared Sandor a thought before she drifted off.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be biased, but I think Sydney Harbour is the most beautiful harbour in the world. Like Sansa, everytime I'm on it, it takes my breath away, day or night.
> 
> In my younger years (ie, when I had the figure for it) I was obsessed with La Perla lingerie. I'd spend a considerable amount of my pay on not much material, but I loved feeling feminine in it. This was, of course, pre-children, pre-mortgage ;-).
> 
> Until recently, the nearest Lindt cafe was an hour's drive from me - but I would make the trek because, damn, that is good stuff. Now, it's only 3 mins away, which is not a good thing, really, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you want to see Sandor in nothing but swim shorts?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, the Sansan fandom has some of the loveliest fans anywhere. So welcoming and encouraging. Thank you, dear readers.

The promised heat began making its presence known by mid-morning.

As Sansa prepared for their visit to the Baths, she could feel the fine film of sweat developing on her body. She put on her favourite peach-striped, retro-style bikini which suited her colouring and wasn’t overly skimpy. The Baths were generally frequented by older swimmers or families with young children. Wearing something scandalous was not a good idea, not that she owned any bikinis like that. That type of swimwear was better left for the surf beaches. Bondi Beach would be heaving with people on a day like today. Let the tourists enjoy that one.

Throwing on a strapless maxi-dress, she quickly put her hair up in a messy bun before proceeding to lather her skin with sunscreen. Redheads, with their fair skin, and the harsh Australian sun were not the best combination. She would have to re-apply at least every hour if she wanted to avoid a painful sunburn. Sansa could recall a few of those during her lifetime and was not eager to repeat the experience.

Grabbing her beach bag, she placed a towel, the sunscreen, keys, purse, sunglasses (not the ridiculously big ones she wore on the day of her humiliation) inside before slipping on her thongs and leaving the bedroom.

“Are you nearly ready, Margaery?” she called out to the closed bedroom door opposite hers. Muffled by the wood panel, she heard Margaery reply that she would only be a few more minutes.

While she waited for her friend, she grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and turned to get her hat for the walk. It was brimmed but not as much the other one that had not been seen again after _that_ day.

“Ok, ready,” declared Margaery as she bounced out of the bedroom. Luckily, they were of similar size, so it wasn’t a problem to loan her a bikini and clothes.

After locking up, the two girls began the leisurely stroll towards the park that bordered the Baths. Sansa was glad for her hat as the sun beat down on them, though she had to wipe her face of sweat a few times.

The roads were busy with weekend traffic and there was quite a lot of pedestrian traffic as well. People walking dogs and children before the heat really stung, as well as the usual fitness fanatics, sweat pouring off them as they ran past. They were even wolf-whistled by a passing car. Margaery’s reaction was to give them the bird before the girls burst into giggles.

Arriving at the Baths, they paid their entrance fee before searching for a spot to put their towels down on the wooden deck that ran around the tidal pool. Expecting it to be packed with swimmers, the girls were pleased to see that there were still empty spots.

“I guess most people decided to go to the beach today,” commented Sansa as they placed their bags down. “Or they’ll come a little later, when the sun’s not so strong.”

Margaery stripped off her sundress and began applying sunscreen to her legs. “It’ll be a madhouse at the beaches today. If you didn’t get there early this morning, parking will be non-existent by now. And going down by public transport in this heat, with the crowds, does not appeal. At all.”

After a check to make sure everything was in the right place, Sansa walked to the edge of the deck. “Coming in?” she called out to her friend.

“Yeah, in a minute. Go in.”

With a nod, Sansa executed a graceful dive into the water, its cold contrasting with her heated body so that she gasped as she surfaced. “It’s lovely, Marge. So refreshing.”

Margaery, finished with the sunscreen, jumped in feet first. The tide was up so the water was quite deep and they could see schools of little fish swimming away from their bodies.

For the next fifteen minutes, the girls frolicked in the water, racing each other from one pillar to the next, avoiding bumping into other swimmers and floating peacefully on their backs. They climbed out of the water, squeezing their hair to get the excess moisture out before sitting down on their towels to dry out and bask in the sun.

“Tell me again why we work our arses off at the café when we can do this all day?” asked Margaery lazily.

“Because you would be bored stiff within a week and you know it. You’re not like those other society girls who have never worked a day in their life and I love you for it. God, when I remember some of the girls I hung around with in high school! All they wanted to do was find a boy who was rich and well-connected, so they could live a life of luxury, doing nothing but running from hair to nail appointments all day. And I thought I wanted to do the same thing at the time,” shuddered Sansa.

“Me too. I mean, my family still look at me funny when I tell them about the café and ask me why I would want to dirty my hands when it’s not necessary. Especially my parents and grandmother. Loras and Willas are fine with it. Couldn’t care less, really. My mother even tried to push me toward Joffrey, can you believe it?”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open as she looked at her friend. “You’re kidding! That dickweed? Doesn’t she know what kind of a reputation he has? My father has told me about the numerous times his family have had to use their money to hush up the potential scandals caused when he’s abused one of his girlfriends. He doesn’t have any dealings with the Baratheon’s, not since what he did to me, but he hears things from his business connections. It’s a very poorly-kept secret within that world.”

“I know. I’ve heard the same from numerous sources. He’s going to do something one of these days that not even his family can get him out of. When Mum tried to organise a date with him, I told her that if he came anywhere near me, I would rip his balls off and stuff them up his arse. She was horrified. Mainly at my language. ‘ _Margaery Tyrell! Young ladies do not speak like that!'_  Anyway, it worked because she hasn’t brought it up again, thank god,” laughed Margaery.

For the next couple of hours, the girls alternatively sunbathed before jumping back in the water when they got too hot. Sansa’s stomach rumbled when she caught sight of a kid eating an ice-cream, so she suggested they go to the kiosk to get some lunch.

Despite the heat, there was nothing better than eating a meat pie, smothered in tomato sauce, whilst avoiding burning your mouth and trying not to let the gravy drip down your chin. The girls bought two and were walking back to their towels to eat them when Margaery pulled up short, Sansa nearly bowling her over.

“What the…?”

“Look! Over there,” pointed out Margaery.

Turning her head to see what Margaery was looking at, Sansa gave a gasp when she spotted the tall, scarred man that was walking from the pavilion, accompanied by a smaller man, both dressed in board shorts and t-shirts and towels slung over their shoulders.

Sandor! Here, at the baths, and looking like he was going to swim. Praise the Lord!

“Shall we call them over?” asked Margaery. “That looks like his business partner. He’s even cuter in person.”

“No!” whispered Sansa. “It’s not like we’re friends. We’re still technically only acquaintances.”

“Well, what better way to advance the relationship than spend the afternoon sunbathing? And, we get to see them in only swim shorts,” she replied with glee, eyeing off Sandor’s companion with a predatory gleam in her eye.

In any event, before they could do anything about it, the two men walked close enough that Sandor did a visible double-take when he saw her standing only a few feet away, dressed in nothing more than a revealing bikini.

She did her own visual inspection, though he was still fully dressed. His hair was pulled back in it’s own bun and he wore aviator sunglasses that made her want to melt. His feet, instead of the usual steel-capped boots, were bare except for the plain black thongs he wore. She could see the line where his boots normally ended, as his feet were a couple of shades lighter than his legs. This little detail made her want to smile. It made the sexy god she so lusted after seem so much more human.

Sansa could feel those grey eyes scanning her from head to foot, even from behind the glasses, lingering on her chest before trailing down over her stomach to her long legs and back up to her eyes, a heat in them that made her shiver, despite the sun’s warmth.

“Hello, girls,” purred the smooth voice of Sandor’s companion, drawing them from their spell.

Clearing his throat noisily, Sandor nodded at them. “Hi, Little Bird,” he said hoarsely, ignoring the sharp look his friend gave him at the moniker. “Margaery.”

“H…hi, Sandor!” replied Sansa. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hi. Who’s your friend?” purred Margaery, the Tyrell charm in full force.

“Ah, this is Bronn. My business partner,” he pointed out, looking at Sansa with a tiny curl of his lip.

Sansa smiled as she remembered that conversation. “Hi Bronn. Nice to meet you. I’m Sansa and this is Margaery, my business partner. We run the café that Sandor gets his coffee and croissants from.”

Bronn nodded his head in recognition. “Of course! He’s always going on about how he can never get decent coffee but he’s always raving about yours. Now I see why,” he grinned, looking at his friend with a knowing smile.

Sandor shuffled a little and he may have flushed, but it was probably only the heat. “Yeah, well, they make good coffee,” he mumbled, looking at the water.

“Hey, do you guys want to sit with us?” asked Margaery, taking the bull by the horns. “There’s some room where we are.”

“That sounds grand, love,” replied Bronn. “Lead the way, my ladies.”

Margaery giggled at his silliness before falling into step with him, the other two following in their wake.

“Do you come here often?” asked Sansa curiously.

“No, this is my first time. I normally head to one of the beaches on the south coast where I can let Stranger have a run. I’m at a tricky stage of the reno, so I got Bronn over today. He’s been working on another job in another part of town, so today was the only day he was available. It was fucking hot in that house and as soon as we finished we came down for a swim. It was close by.”

“I come down when I can,” said Sansa. “As you said, it’s close.”

They got to where the girls’ towels were and proceeded to lay their own down. Expecting Sandor to sit next to Bronn, who had happily sat down next to Margaery, she was thrilled when he sat down beside her. He saw the pie she carried, and nodded to it. “Eat, before it gets cold. Nothing worse than a cold meat pie. Might get one myself.”

While hungry, Sansa hesitated a little. Eating pies was a messy business. There was simply no way to eat one without getting gravy on your chin or on the body. She didn’t want Sandor to see her trying to eat it with as much decorum as she could.

As if sensing her dilemma, Sandor stood up. “I’m fucking hot. I’m going for a swim to cool off. Coming, Bronn?” Bronn was engrossed in his conversation with Margaery and didn’t hear him. Shrugging, Sandor took off his sunglasses before pulling off his t-shirt.

It would happen that Sansa had taken her first bite of the pie at that very moment and the sight of all those glorious muscles, covered in golden skin and black hair, coupled with the flakiness of the pastry, caused that first mouthful to go down the wrong way, bringing on a coughing fit of epic proportions.

Coughing uncontrollably, Sansa put her pie down before she dropped it on herself, and tried to catch her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks as her body tried to clear the food out of her windpipe. She was sure she sounded like a stranded seal.

Amidst all this, she felt a large, warm hand tap her between the shoulders, trying to help her out. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, but was only half a minute or so, her coughing subsided, only a few bursting through intermittently.

“You ok, Little Bird?” he asked, his hand still patting her back.

Looking up, his face so close to hers, she opened her mouth. “Y...ye..” another cough emerging. “God, sorry.”

“For what? Choking on food. Easily done. All settled now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Sansa nodded, not risking coughing in his face again. She was so embarrassed she wanted to jump in the water and drown herself. That man was a hazard to her health! “I’m fine, honestly.” Picking up her water, she took a sip to clear her throat. “You go for your swim.”

Margaery and Bronn had stopped talking during the commotion and she would have offered her assistance except it seemed that Sandor had it in hand, so she let it play out for itself. Besides, she was sure Sansa preferred to have her back rubbed by Sandor’s large hand rather than hers.

Sandor stood up, somewhat reluctantly it seemed to Sansa, who waved him off re-assuredly, and stepped to the deck’s edge. With one last look at her, Sandor dived into the water, much more gracefully than a man his size had the right to be. Once he re-surfaced, he began swimming to the other end of the baths, Sansa’s eyes not moving from that strong back, muscles almost showing off obscenely.

Lost in somewhat of a trance, she didn’t even notice when Bronn joined his friend in the water. It wasn’t until Margaery touched her arm that she shook off her daze.

“Well, this is a stroke of luck, wouldn’t you say?” purred Margaery. “Though I can think of better ways of getting Sandor to put his hands on you than nearly choking to death.”

Sansa playfully swatted her friend’s leg in response. “Just my luck. Seriously, he must think I’m the biggest klutz in the country. I spill drinks, fall at his feet and nearly die on a meat pie, all in front of him.”

“And he always seems to be there to rescue you,” pointed out Margaery with a giggle. “Still, you always manage to get his attention each time.”

Sansa nodded ruefully before sighing. “Did you see that body? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat or drink in front of him ever again. Especially if he’s topless. Lord almighty, there has to be some sort of law against having a chest like that.”

“Yeah, it’s mighty impressive, though I’m more partial to the wiry, defined look Bronn has.” She looked at the two men, now wrestling in the water though it looked like Sandor definitely had the upper hand. “Yep, I’d quite happily hit that.”

Sansa giggled at Margaery’s lascivious expression. “So, it’s not only me that has developed a penchant for tradies?”

“Nope. I’m joining that club.”

Sansa could only be glad that she didn’t have any food in her mouth when Sandor lifted himself from the water. Water dripping off him, droplets glistening in the sunshine, highlighting the enormous biceps and dips and hollows of his stomach, a visible, though not too exaggerated, six-pack run through with a happy trail of hair leading down to his shorts which were dragged down by the weight of the water so that the vee of his hips was visible, as if pointing down to the treasure-trove contained within them.

Unable to help herself, her eyes drifted down and almost had an aneurism as she spied the tell-tale bulge between his legs, faithfully outlined by the thin, dripping material.

 _Good lord! And that’s after being dunked in cold water!_ Despite the heat, Sansa shivered with arousal. She could feel her nipples tighten, her bikini top not hiding the fact.

When she raised her eyes to his, she almost gasped at the heat contained in them as he squeezed his hair of excess water, an almost predatory smile on his lips.

The game had just moved up another level.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of translations:
> 
> Thongs - in Australia these are practically national costume and worn on the feet - NOT as under wear :-)  
> Meat pie - Iconic Australian food. Flaky pastry filled with meat of questionable origin swimming in gravy, topped with a good dollop of tomato sauce. To be eaten burning hot so that lips and tongue, and often chin, bear the scars of one's enjoyment of this delicacy ;-)
> 
> And the choking - that happened to me at the footy (rugby league game) when my team scored just as I took a bite of my meat pie, resulting in a choking fit, which no-one noticed because they were all cheering except for my daughter who was laughing hysterically as she thumped my back. Lesson: Don't take a bite of food if your team looks likely to score!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunscreen anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for all the love you've given my silly little story. I love, love, love your comments - they make me smile like a loon!

Margaery leapt up and jumped in the water to join Bronn, effectively leaving Sansa alone with Sandor, who had bent over to pick up his towel, his eyes still locked on hers.

Sansa could barely breathe.

With slow, deliberate movements Sandor rubbed his body dry, his hands lingering over his chest before moving downwards, almost in a caress.

Sansa’s mouth watered, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. At her sudden movement, Sandor bit his bottom lip, sending the butterflies in her stomach into a manic state.

The heat she felt burning her up had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.

Setting down his towel, Sandor sat down next to her, rather closer than he had been before his swim. She could feel both the coolness of his wet shorts combined with the heat his body still exuded.

Not quite knowing what to do or say, Sansa chose to watch her friend frolic in the water with Bronn but keeping her peripheral vision on him as he put his sunglasses back on.

“You’re looking a bit pink, Little Bird,” he rasped suddenly, making her jump a little.

“Oh!” Looking down, she saw he was right, her shoulder showing signs of sun. “Yes, thank you. I need to re-apply my sunscreen.” As she spoke, she rummaged through her bag, searching for the tube.

“Need any help?”

“What?” she squeaked, looking at him, but seeing only her own startled reflection in his glasses.

This close, she could see the scarring around his mouth as well as the grafted skin over a large area of his face. She knew most of his left eyebrow was missing and the lid drooped a little. The scarring went down past his ear, which itself looked to have been reconstructed, down to his shoulder. It was well healed, so she surmised that it must have happened quite a number of years ago. With the amount to be grafted, Sansa imagined that he must have had multiple surgeries and she couldn’t help empathising with the pain he must have endured.

A brave man. A survivor. It made him even sexier, if that were possible.

“Your back. Need help putting cream on your back?” he rasped, a tiny smirk visible.

“Oh! Oh…y…yes please,” she stammered. “Thank you.” He was going to touch her, rub her skin! She may not survive it.

“Such a polite little bird, aren’t you?” he murmured as he opened the tube, pouring a good amount into his hand.

“Nothing wrong with manners,” she snapped.

“Never said there was,” he chuckled lightly. “Here, turn a bit so I reach everywhere.”

Obediently, Sansa turned so her back was completely facing him. _Oh, if only he could reach_ everywhere!

Though she knew it was going to happen, the feel of his hand on her upper back, added to the cool of the sunscreen, sent a jolt through her and she had to suppress the gasp she wanted to emit.

In no apparent hurry, Sandor rubbed his hand over her back, every finger leaving a burning trail on her skin. Up and down, he rhythmically moved his hand in a soothing caress. When he got to her strap, he squeezed underneath, not missing a spot.

Sansa closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing steadily even as her bones melted. At one point, his fingers nearly brushed the side of her breast and it was all she could do not to whimper aloud. She opened her eyes when his hand lifted, turning to see if he had finished, but he was only getting more cream.

This time, he placed both his hands on her, massaging her shoulders at the same time. A little moan escaped when his fingers rubbed over the nape of her neck before adding a hint of pressure. It was heaven!

“Feel good?” he rasped lowly, close to her ear.

Words were beyond her at that point. She was so damned turned on by his hands, his voice, his nearness, that she could only nod. “Mmmm.”

“Do you want me to apply cream to the back of your legs, too?”

If he touched her thighs, she would spontaneously combust, so she shook her head. Turning to face him, she smiled up at him. “I can do it. Thanks for your help.” Her voice was noticeably husky.

Sandor’s face had a faint flush on it and she could see he was breathing a little fast. She wanted to peek down to see if he was as affected as her, but he was looking intently at her. “Um, do…do you want me to do you?”

She realised what she said as soon as the words came out. “Uh…your back! Do want cream on your back?” she clarified, heat suffusing her face.

Grinning at her gaffe, Sandor shook his head. “No, I’m fine, Little Bird. I applied before we came in. It should still be good. Thanks for the offer, though,” he added, knowingly.

Sansa nodded and began re-applying sunscreen to the rest of her body, before applying a generous dollop to her face, feeling Sandor’s eyes on her the whole time.

“Ah, thinking about it, can I borrow some for my face? I left my hat in the car and it burns easily.”

“Of course! Here, help yourself,” she replied, handing over the tube.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him remove the glasses before applying a generous amount of cream over his facial scars and neck, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, even the burnt part of his scalp. Not expecting him to draw attention to it, he turned to face her. “Is it all in?” he asked, to her surprise.

Given this opportunity to look at him closely, Sansa’s eyes traced over his face, seeing a bit of cream near his eye. Reaching up, she gently rubbed the cream into his skin, surprised that the scars and grafted skin felt so smooth. She also didn’t miss his almost instinctive recoil, instantly suppressed. She wondered how many people he had allowed to touch the scars.

“Sandor?”

Before she could say anything, he pre-empted her. “You want to know how I got these, don’t you, Little Bird?”

Sansa nodded. “Only…only if you’re ok with that.”

Sandor shrugged his shoulders before replacing his glasses, as if they were a shield of sorts. “It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“Car crash. When I was six and we lived in Scotland.”

Sansa gasped. “Were…were your family involved?”

“Yeah. Parents, brother and sister. All died that day. Except my sister and I.”

Unable to help herself, Sansa reached out and took hold of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Sandor. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. My father had been drinking and wrapped the car around a pole. I was knocked unconscious, but my sister managed to pull me out of the car, even though she had a broken leg and cracked skull. As she was trying to drag me out, the car caught fire, and a fireball erupted, giving me these burns. Her hands were burnt but not her face, luckily. She saved me.”

“What’s her name?”

“Eleanor. She’s four years older than me.”

“So she was only a child herself. She’s so brave,” said Sansa, awed at the bravery of such a young girl.

“Yeah, she’s my hero,” he replied with a fond smile.

“Where did you go, after your parents died?”

“My mother’s sister took us in. We were both in hospital for a long time and then I had to return for grafts a number of times. She had some of the worst of her burns on her hands and arms grafted but my burns were more extensive. When I was ten, my aunt and uncle decided to move to Australia and I continued treatment here.”

“When was your last surgery?”

“When I was nineteen. So eleven years ago now. Puberty presented some challenges as I grew, with some of the new skin not growing as well as expected. I’m still ugly and disfigured but it’s an improvement on what it could have been, I suppose.”

Sansa glared at his words. “You are NOT ugly, Sandor! So you have scars! They don’t make you ugly, not by a long shot. If you say that to me again, I will make you the worst tasting coffee you ever had, next time you come in!”

Sandor chuckled, and gently squeezed her hand, which she hadn’t even realised was still holding his. “Ok, Little Bird. No need to ruffle those pretty feathers. I need my coffee.”

“Good!” She let his hand go with reluctance.

They changed the subject after that, Sansa asking about his business and if he had ever returned to Scotland.

“I went back after my last surgery, but there’s no family left there now. I didn’t have any friends as I spent much of that time in and out of hospital. No, Australia’s home now. I prefer the weather here anyhow.”

He went on to explain how he and Bronn met at school and Bronn, being English, stood out from their peers, like Sandor. It bonded them somehow, and Sandor’s scars didn’t seem to bother Bronn. They were both picked on until Sandor grew big enough to take on the bullies.

“Since I missed a fair bit of school due to the surgeries, I fell behind a bit. I didn’t really like it anyway. I took woodwork as a subject in high school and found I had some skill in it. When I left, I got apprenticed until I qualified. Bronn went a similar path. When the whole renovation craze started, it seemed a good time to start up a business together and here we are. What about you? Why did you go in to the café business?”

As Sansa talked, neither of them noticed Bronn and Margaery return to their towels, lost as they were in their conversation. Deciding not to interrupt them, Bronn and Margaery chatted until the dark clouds of an impending summer storm rolled over the harbour.

“Looks like it’s time to go, Little Bird,” declared Sandor, peering up at the sky. “When did they roll in?”

“They’ve been coming in for nearly half an hour, mate,” laughed Bronn. “You two were too busy in your own little world to notice. Talking coffee beans?” he teased.

“Fuck off, Bronn,” replied Sandor, reaching down to help Sansa to her feet.

Placing her hand in his calloused one, she felt the warmth flowing though them as he pulled her up. “Thanks, Sandor.” With a nod, he bent to pick up his t-shirt and pulled it on, much to her dismay. All those lovely, lovely muscles covered back up. What a damned shame!

Pulling on her own dress, she thought she spotted his own disappointment now that he had taken his glasses off. Smiling to herself, she packed her things away, Margaery doing the same.

They heard the first rumble of thunder as they left the baths and Sansa wondered if they would make it back to her place before the rain came down. These summer storms were often of short duration but they could be very heavy, so they would likely be drenched.

“How did you ladies get here? By car?” asked Bronn.

“No, we walked. It’s not far and it was sunny then,” replied Margaery.

“Well then, we’ll give you a lift back,” he offered. “Can’t have two such fair maidens getting soaked to the skin, can we?”

“Are you sure,” asked Sansa, looking at Sandor. “We’ve got our costumes on, so it’s not like it will matter if we get wet, will it?”

“Come on, Little Bird. It looks like there’ll be lightning. Let’s go.”

That effectively ended the conversation. As they got to Bronn’s dual-cab ute, the first heavy drops fell and Sansa was glad they didn’t have to walk in a storm.

Unsurprisingly, Margaery rode in the front with Bronn, leaving the back seat for Sandor and Sansa. In a few short minutes, he pulled up in front of the café, the rain lashing the windows now.

Sansa felt somewhat depressed that her time with Sandor was at an end. It had been such an unexpected, but welcome surprise to spend time with him. To actually have a conversation and get to know him a little. Not just as a customer who came in for a few minutes.

As well as being in lust with the man, she was feeling the beginnings of a powerful crush now. When would they have this opportunity again?

Before she could think about it too much, she turned to Sandor. “Would…would you guys like to come upstairs for something to eat or drink?”

Sandor looked at her with a gentle expression in his eyes. “Thanks for the offer, Little Bird, but I need to get out of these shorts and shower the salt and sunscreen off. You know what it’s like. Besides, I need to tend to Stranger. He’s been alone all day and probably fading away with hunger.” He smiled softly to lessen the let-down of his refusal.

Sansa felt stupid for the sharp pang of disappointment that raced through her at his words. Of course she understood. She loved swimming in the ocean but nothing beat the feeling of showering and washing one’s hair afterwards, leaving only a sun-kissed feeling. And his poor dog needed his attention more than she did. “Of course.” Turning to Bronn, she gave him a bright smile. “Thank you for the lift and it was great meeting you. I hope we see you around more often.”

“No need to thank me, love. It was my pleasure.” Looking at Margaery, who was grinning back at him, he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you both real soon,” his voice loaded with meaning.

With a final goodbye, the girls jumped out of the ute and raced up the stairs. Bronn’s ute didn’t pull away until they were out of sight.

“Well!” exclaimed Margaery as the door closed behind them.

“Well!” repeated Sansa. The two of them looked at each other meaningfully for a moment before breaking out into identical grins.

“Today was a good day,” declared Margaery, to the whole-hearted agreement of Sansa. “You and Sandor seemed quite cozy for a while there.”

Sansa blushed at the memory of his hands on her. “It was amazing! I nearly came then and there when he was rubbing cream over my back, his hands felt so good.”

“Progress right there, my girl,” Margaery pointed out.

“I think I like him, Marge,” admitted Sansa.

“Well of course you do. Isn’t that what this whole thing’s been about?”

“No. I mean, I ‘like’ like him. As in, I’m developing a huge crush on Sandor.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Against expectations, the storm developed into a low pressure weather system which drenched Sydney for the next three days, causing minor flooding and traffic snarls all over the city.

It also meant that Sandor didn’t come to the café. She didn’t know if it was because of the rain or he wasn’t working at the site. He didn’t call to order coffee either, which Margaery said was a good thing, though Sansa would have braved the elements to see him.

Due to the weather, business was also slow though they did get the commuters, grumbling about being drenched by the time they got to work and how nothing seemed to work properly in Sydney when it rained like this.

And Sansa’s mood mirrored the weather. She was downcast and a little depressed. She missed seeing Sandor. He had become a highlight of her day and after spending time with him at the pools, she felt the loss even more sharply. Margaery urged her to cheer up, that the rain would stop soon and he’d be back.

Each night, she would pull up his picture and remember how he looked coming out of the water and her breathing would hitch. Now, though, that feeling was complemented by what she realised was affection for the huge, scarred man. Her compassionate heart ached at what he had gone through in his childhood and just wanted to hug him and soothe the memories away.

Finally, after seeming like it would rain forever, the sun came out. With the resulting humidity. Still, Sydney-siders need sunshine like they need to breathe, and the mood of the customers was telling. Everyone was just that much more cheerful now that they were bathed in the customary sunshine.

Sansa was eagerly awaiting Sandor’s visit to the café but as the hours dragged on with no sign of him, her spirits took a nosedive.

What if he never came back? What if the job was finished and he had no need to come to Balmain anymore? Would she have the courage to call his business number? On what pretext?

Lost in her anxiety, she almost missed the vibration of her phone in her pocket. Pulling it out, she looked at the unfamiliar number on the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“Little Bird?”

“Sandor!” she exclaimed softly, aware of the customers in the shop. Her heart was racing in excitement. “Hi! We’ve missed you around here.”

“Bloody rain caused all sorts of shit when the roof leaked. Couldn’t do much so I was helping Bronn out.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Are you back now?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get out. I need you…I mean, can you deliver me a coffee and the croissants?”

Yes!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sandor's POV (woohoo!) and things get steamier ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, let's find out what Sandor's been thinking about Sansa's shennanigans! Oh, and things definitely get steamier towards the end ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, beautiful readers! You've all been waiting patiently for some action between our two crazy kids and I'm here to deliver. It's been a while since I've written some smut. I'd forgotten how difficult it can be! Does this arm go here, that leg do that, is that physically possible? Anyway, enjoy!

Sandor ended the call, his hand trembling a little as he put the phone back in his pocket.

 

The Little Bird was on her way.

 

After three interminable days, he was going to see the beautiful girl who had him tied up in all sort of knots again.

 

Fuck!  Getting hit by a sledgehammer wouldn’t have had as much of an impact on him as his first sight of the redhead behind the counter of the café.  He didn’t even know that girls as gorgeous as that even existed outside of his television screen.  With her creamy skin, blue eyes that rivalled the summer skies and that fiery mane of hair, he was just glad that he had kept his tool belt on when he left the site that morning.   The weight of it effectively hid the instant boner he got when he saw her.

 

A boner that disappeared the moment she looked at him and spilled the drink she had all over the place.  Of course she would be shocked and disgusted by the sight of his face.  While the surgeries had prevented him from looking like some sort of Freddy Krueger, his face was still not pretty to look at.  He sighed mentally at the realisation that he had no chance in hell with this beauty.

 

Despite that, he couldn’t help himself from going back the next day.  It was like he had become instantly addicted and he needed his ‘fix’.  When he put his hands on her to stop her falling, the feel of her skin raced through his blood like a shot of pure heroin.  It was all he could do stop himself from throwing her over his shoulder and racing off so he could have his wicked way with her. 

 

He found out her name that day, though the nickname he gave her stuck.  She talked non-stop, due to nerves, no doubt.  He was feeling irritated that his presence made her so nervous when he named her ‘Little Bird’.  And yet, when she hardly spoke the next time he saw her, he missed her chirping.

 

After that, she would smile at him when he came in, and always looked him in the eyes.  This impressed Sandor as many people looked past him when they spoke to him as if looking at his scars would bring up the unwanted elephant in the room. 

 

Even when she didn’t serve him, she always looked up from where she was to smile at him.  And it took his breath away, every time. 

 

Then it dawned on Sandor that the Little Bird was flirting with him.  Not in the overt way her friend did with the customers, but with much more subtlety. 

 

For a few mornings, he stood outside the café, just out of sight but still able to see Sansa, to see if she was that way with all the customers.  She would smile politely at all of them but the smile he got was brighter, sunnier. 

 

It made him feel a funny sort of ache in his chest.

 

The day he found her sprawled on the footpath in front of his worksite was the day it clicked that somehow, despite the seeming improbability of it, the Little Bird was interested in him. 

 

He couldn’t fathom why.   Sure, he was well built.  His job, as well as regular workouts ensured that his body was attractive.  The infrequent flings he had with women showed that they weren’t disappointed with it, despite his face.  How could someone that looked like she should be in movies possibly be interested in someone that looked like him?

 

Seeing Sansa on the pavement, and the way she deflected his questions about what she was doing out the front of the very renovation he was working on was so damned cute that he wanted to kiss her senseless.  And he couldn’t deny it was flattering.  The fact that she was sweet to his dog and made him laugh out loud with her less-than-subtle questioning of his sexuality and relationship status just made the crush he had on the girl even stronger. 

 

And he couldn’t prove it, but he suspected the number she gave him was her personal one.  He was tempted to ring it with some sort of excuse, but he held back.  He wasn’t ready for the disappointment he’d feel if he was wrong, so he left it. 

 

Yet, he often felt her eyes on him, eyeing him off as he did her.  He couldn’t help it.  She was irresistible.  As she would prepare his coffee his eyes would stray to her breasts, modestly covered in t-shirts that couldn’t hide their shape and he itched to touch them, see how they fit in his hands.    

 

Everything about her turned him on.  He’d spent himself in his own hand more since he’d known her than he had in the previous year.  He wasn’t sure if the callouses on his hand were from the wood he worked on or the amount he jerked himself off to thoughts of the Little Bird, he chuckled to himself.

 

And then he saw her in nothing but a bikini.  It took all of his will power to prevent his cock from standing to proud attention the instant he saw her.  Frantic thoughts of stabbing himself with a nail gun, eating a mouthful of wood shavings, even kissing Bronn, was required. 

 

Fuck, but she was gorgeous!  Even her toes were cute.  Luckily, his sunglasses hid the way his eyes roved over that endless span of silky skin.  Sandor could not remember wanting a woman this much, ever.

 

After touching her back during her choking fit, he had no choice but to get in the water before she saw exactly what she was doing to him.   It helped – a bit.  He needed freezing water, in this instance, and even then...

 

Despite all his good intentions, he couldn’t stop himself from offering to put cream on her back.  It was like a dream come true.  To be so close, to touch her, to breathe her in, to feel the warmth of her.  There was no helping him now.  He had to discreetly adjust himself in an attempt to disguise the bulge tenting his shorts, even using his towel under the guise of wiping his hands.

 

Just when he thought his day could not get any better, despite the ache in his loins, she touched his scars, told him she didn’t think he was ugly and was so goddamned sweet and genuine in her empathy, and he was lost. 

 

Sandor determined then and there that Sansa would be his.

 

And then buggering disaster happened!

 

The heavy rain and storms caused the upstairs of the renovation to leak, ruining weeks of work, seeing as how much of the wood had not been sealed yet.  As he couldn’t work up there until the roofing contractors fixed the problem, and it wasn’t practicable to do anything downstairs, he spent the last three days working with Bronn.

 

And missing Sansa.

 

After their day at the Baths, he couldn’t wait to see her again but the rain put paid to that.  Bronn teased him endlessly about being love-sick until Sandor threatened to shoot him with his nail gun.

 

Once back at the Balmain site, he had planned to go to the café but a call from a supplier advising that they couldn’t give him an accurate delivery time due to a backlog of deliveries, meant he couldn’t leave the worksite as he was the only person there that day.  He was tempted to punch a wall in frustration.

 

Her number!  He could get her to come to him.  Pulling out his wallet, he flicked through the contents until he found her card.  He briefly hesitated but he couldn’t wait any more.  He needed to see her.  And she _had_ offered.

 

When her sweet voice answered, the ache bloomed in his chest again.  He couldn’t help smiling as she spoke.  She advised him that she would be there within the hour, due to the number of customers in the shop.  He was willing to wait until hell froze over, frankly.

 

Sandor attempted to do something productive while he waited for his Little Bird, but it was no use.  After nearly sawing a piece of timber incorrectly for the second time, he gave up.  His head couldn’t think of anything but that Sansa was on her way here. 

 

“Hello?  Sandor?”

 

Heart thumping in anticipation, Sandor made his way down the stairs, stopping on the bottom step.  Sansa was standing just inside the doorway, holding the coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other.  She was facing away from him, looking at the work being done on the property, the sun shining through the large windows lighting her hair with a fiery aura.

 

Instead of the usual t-shirt and pants she wore at work, she was wearing a low-cut navy tank top paired with a short, silky, navy and white flowered skirt, the type that would sway seductively as she walked.

 

 _Calm down boy_ , he ordered his wayward cock.

 

“Little Bird,” he replied, noting her slight jump at the sound of his voice.

 

“Oh, hey Sandor!” she smiled back at him.  “I’m sorry it took so long to get here, but we had a bit of a last minute lunch rush.”

 

“No worries, Little Bird,” he replied.  “You’re doing me a favour, coming out here.”

 

“The croissants are especially flaky today,” Sansa informed him, holding up the bag.

 

“Thanks.  I look forward to them.”  Seeing her look around with interest, he asked, “Do you want to see what I’ve been doing to the place?”

 

Sansa nodded eagerly.  “I’d love that!”

 

“Here, let’s put this in the kitchen then I’ll show you the rest,” he said, taking the coffee and bag from her hands.

 

Walking towards the rear of the property and placing the food on the shiny new kitchen bench, Sandor then led her back through the terrace house, showing her the work he had done and what still needed to be completed. 

 

“Careful at the top here, Little Bird,” he warned her as they reached the top of the stairs.  “The floor’s a bit warped from all the water that leaked through.”  Reaching out, he took her hand as he guided her past the affected floorboards.

 

Looking down, he could see her slender fingers engulfed by his.  He purposely didn’t let go and when she didn’t pull away, he tightened his hold slightly as he led her from room to room, swelling a little with pride when she commented on some of his handiwork.

 

He took her to the front room, the main bedroom, and showed her the detailed window and door frames he had crafted to highlight the view.  It wasn’t yet safe to go onto the balcony so they stood at the windows, neither speaking.

 

Being with her, alone, the sun shining through the front windows, Sandor felt like he was in a bubble.  A bubble he didn’t ever want to burst.  Her hand sent tingles up and down his arm and he couldn’t help his thumb from gently stroking the skin of her fingers.

 

Hearing Sansa’s swift, soft intake of breath, he looked down at her, noting how the navy strap of her top and bra made her skin look even creamier, with a faint golden glow from the sun.  From his height, he could see down the valley between her breasts, a hint of navy lace peeking out.  He could breathe in her lemony scent.

 

When she turned her face to his, close enough that he felt her breath on his skin, he lost all restraint. 

 

Only a saint would be able to resist such temptation.  

 

And Sandor was no saint.

 

Leaning down, he covered her lips with his, a soft growl rumbling in his throat.  That initial touch set off an explosion of sensations that travelled from the point of contact right through his body to his already eager cock. 

 

At first, Sandor just gently rubbed his mouth on hers, savouring the taste of the soft pillows of her lips until he felt Sansa’s eager response. 

 

He felt, more than heard, the soft moan that left Sansa’s mouth, her lips opening up as her tongue darted out to taste his.  It was like lighting the wick to a tinder box – for both of them.

 

Taking hold of her waist, he pulled Sansa’s body to his before wrapping his arms around her.  To his delight, hers encircled his neck, the difference in height meaning their bodies were pressed intimately close.

 

Sandor could not hold back any longer, now that Sansa had given her tacit permission, and proceeded to ravage her mouth in passionate desperation.  Lips, tongues and even teeth clashed, drinking thirstily of the other, as if parched. 

 

One of Sansa’s hands reached up and took hold of his face, her soft skin caressing his scarred cheek while the other roamed over his shoulder and the nape of his neck.

 

Needing her even closer, Sandor buried his hand in her glorious hair, a distant part of his brain marvelling at the silkiness of it, holding her still while he kissed her even harder.   He wanted to devour her, make her a part of him, lose himself in her.

 

As their lips danced frantically, his other hand began wandering downwards, fingers tracing over the dips and hollows of her waist in urgent strokes before moving over her arse, squeezing and grasping the material-covered flesh, her soft whimpers egging him on.

 

Without conscious thought, Sandor led Sansa backwards until she was pressed up against the wall by his large body.  The feel of her soft breasts squashed by his chest drove him insane.  Only the sensation of her bare skin would be better. 

 

When Sandor pressed his aching erection into her, Sansa pulled her lips from his and gasped loudly before closing her eyes again with a low, sexy moan.  Using this opportunity, Sandor’s lips travelled down to her throat, his tongue tracing erotic circles on the sensitive skin below her ear before taking the lobe in his mouth and sucking on it gently.

 

“ _Sandor!”_ she breathed.  “Oh god!”

 

“Fuck!” he replied throatily.  “You taste so good.”  As it to prove his words, his mouth continued on a downward path, nipping at the skin of her collarbone before moving to tongue the hollow at the base of her throat.

 

In response, Sansa pressed her body even harder to his, hands now buried in his hair, his hair tie long gone, and her hips moving insistently from side to side, grinding on his cock that was now desperate to be inside her.

 

“ _Little Bird!_ ” he gasped as one her hands suddenly took hold of his cock, stroking him over the material of his work shorts.  Sensation after sensation rocketed through him.  If she touched his bare skin now, he would probably come all over her hand, he was that wound up.

 

The hand he had been massaging her arse with moved lower, to the edge of her skirt, savouring the smoothness of her leg for the first time.  Sansa moaned and lifted that leg to wrap around his, wordlessly urging him on.  Not needing a second invitation, Sandor’s hand moved upwards, caressing and grasping the silken skin until his fingers encountered the elastic of her underwear.  With one less layer of material, he clutched at her arse, almost unable to distinguish between the silk of her underpants or that of her skin.

 

“Touch me,” she demanded as she took hold of his good ear between her teeth.

 

 _Such a demanding little bird_ , he grinned to himself.  Loathe to disobey, his finger snaked under her pants and touched her cunny for the first time.

 

He wasn’t sure who groaned the loudest.

 

She was already so wet!  His finger slid easily over her plump lower lips, the softest skin he’d ever touched, gently parting them to stroke slowly back and forth before reaching her swollen clit. 

 

“ _Ohhh!_ ” moaned Sansa, as his finger lazily circled the bud so that her body jerked each time he pressed on it.

 

“Shit, Little Bird!” he growled into her throat.  “I need to fuck you so badly.  Let me have you,” he almost begged.

 

“ _Yes!_   _Oh, yes!_ ”  she whimpered.  “Sandor, _please_.”

 

Elation racing through him, Sandor pulled down Sansa’s top and bra cup, exposing and palming one rose-tipped breast.  Like a man starved, he licked his way down, taking the hardened nipple into his mouth and suckling as if his life depended on it.  He couldn’t remember tasting anything better.

 

Lost in Sansa, he almost didn’t notice when her hand moved under his shirt, stroking his skin as it moved over the ripples of his stomach muscles, edging towards his waistband. 

 

It almost became too much and if he didn’t fuck her now, he was going to disgrace himself like a green teenage boy.

 

His mouth once again devouring hers as his hands fumbled at the waistband of her underwear to rid her of the unwanted material, they were oblivious to the world around them.

 

It was the loud screeching of a truck’s air-brakes right outside the building that roused them both from the passion-filled bubble they were in.

 

Sandor lifted his head to look out, his mind in a complete erotic haze, and saw the delivery truck pull to a stop.

 

“Fuck!” 

 

“What?  What’s the matter?” asked Sansa, looking as dazed as he felt, her hair and clothes in complete disarray, her breast begging for his mouth.

 

Sandor groaned as his head slumped onto her shoulder, panting like he’d just run a marathon.  “The delivery I’m waiting on.  It’s here.”

 

In a panic, Sansa pushed him back.  “Shit!”  she exclaimed as she tried to straighten herself up, pulling her bra and top back up.  Sandor could have cried at the loss.  Instead, he helped her, brushing down her skirt before tidying his own clothes.

 

Looking down, the bulge in his shorts was straining the material as he attempted to ‘rearrange’ himself.  Fuck, he’d have to hurry and get rid of this hard-on before the delivery guy came in.  Amid his musings, he heard Sansa giggle.

 

“Find it funny, do you?” he growled, amusement in his gaze.  She took his breath away.  All mussed up, cheeks flushed and the bare hint of red marks on her delicious neck.  Marks he’d made with his beard and mouth.  “Women don’t have this trouble,” he grumbled.

 

“We have enough of our own,” she remarked with a grin before reaching up and stroking his cheek. 

 

Sandor covered her hand with his and pressed into it.  “I’m sorry, Little Bird.  I didn’t expect this to happen.”

 

“Don’t be, Sandor,” she replied.  “I’m glad it did.  I’ve wanted this since I first saw you.”

 

Sandor’s eyes widened in surprise.  “You’re kidding!”

 

She shook her head.  “No.  Ask Margaery if you don’t believe me.”  Leaning up, she kissed him softly. 

 

The sound of the truck’s crane unloading Sandor’s order reminded them that their time alone was coming to an end.  For now.

 

“I still want you, Little Bird,” he whispered.

 

“And I still want you, Sandor.  Come over to my place this evening?” she asked him.

 

Sandor nodded.  “I’ll come over after I’ve cleaned up and seen to Stranger.”

 

“I can’t wait.”

 

“Me neither, Little Bird.  Me neither.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - prepare for some full-on smut and fluff, not just a taste ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut, romantic smut, but smut nevertheless. You have been warned ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! The moment you've all been waiting for! This chapter is the longest so far, because Sandor is not just a one-minute man ;-). At least not my Sandor! I hope you find it satisfying (bites nail nervously)

Margaery saw that something had happened the moment Sansa walked back in the shop.

 

“Sa…”

 

“Marge, can you cover for me for the rest of the day?” asked Sansa.

 

“Yeah, sure.  What happened?” asked Margaery, curiosity bursting from her.

 

“I…I’ll tell you later,” replied Sansa, turning to leave.  “I…I can’t right now.  Come up after close.”

 

“Ok.  Are you alright?” her friend asked, worry lacing her voice.

 

“Yeah, yeah.  I gotta go,” came the vague reply.

 

Sansa wanted to feel guilty about leaving the others for the last few hours of the café’s opening, but her mind was whirling in a million directions and she knew she would be less than useless.  She’d probably be a hazard, if anything.

 

Entering her apartment, Sansa threw herself down on her sofa, trying to get her roiling emotions into some sort of order.

 

She never dreamed that when she saw Sandor today, things between them would escalate to this extent.  As much as she wanted him, the fact that she nearly had sex, having not even been kissed by him before today, in a unfinished renovation and without any thought to any kind of protection, was a lot to process.  Only a timely - or was it, untimely? - delivery truck stopped them.

 

Sansa lifted her hands and saw that they still trembled a little.  The hands that had caressed and stroked Sandor’s body.

 

A smile broke out on her face.  Oh, and it had been _glorious!_   _He_ had been glorious!  

 

And he was coming over for what was essentially a booty call.   

 

Though Sansa hoped that it would become something more.

 

For now, though, she had things to do. 

 

Jumping into the shower, Sansa scrubbed, shaved and polished her skin to within an inch of its life.  A towel wrapped around her body and head, she rummaged around her new underwear to pick out what set she was going to wear.  She selected a soft pink teddy that made her feel sexy and would go with the short, summer dress she had hanging in her wardrobe.   She would change into both later, before Sandor arrived.

 

He hadn’t given her an actual arrival time, but Sansa surmised he wouldn’t arrive until at least seven, giving her enough time to tidy the house, change the sheets and run out to the shops for some necessary supplies.  Like condoms.

 

Sansa had been on the pill for years but she didn’t know anything about Sandor’s sexual history so it was best to be prudent.  Something they had totally forgotten about earlier.

 

She had just returned from the shops with the makings of home-made pizzas – they may need to keep up their strength – when Margaery called out before coming inside.

 

“What the hell happened, Sansa?” she asked, taking in the grocery bags on the counter.  “You went to give Sandor his coffee and then disappeared.”

 

Without going into the gory details, Sansa told Margaery of the events at the house, Margaery squealing louder and louder with each word.  “And he’s coming over tonight.”

 

“To finish what he started,” laughed Margaery.  “Girl, I’m proud of you.  If what you’ve told me is true, you are going to have a great night.  Are you all prepared?”

 

“Yep.  Scrubbed, shaved, picked out my lingerie, got food and these,” she replied, holding up the box of condoms.

 

“Extra Large?” chuckled Margaery.  “Lucky you.  Are you hoping to use the whole box tonight?”

 

Sansa grinned.  “I wasn’t sure but what I touched certainly felt extra large.  And I aim to use as many as we can, and save the rest for next time, hopefully.”

 

Margaery squealed again and, giggling like schoolgirls, Sansa lead her friend to her room to show her what she planned to wear that evening.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sandor nervously knocked on Sansa’s door before brushing his clammy hand on his jeans. 

 

He didn’t know why he felt nervous.  They both knew what he was here for and they both wanted it.  Maybe, because for him it felt like more than just a hook-up.  At least, he hoped it would be more than a one-time thing.  He wanted Sansa for more than just her body – spectacular though that was.

 

The afternoon had been pretty much a write-off and after the delivery was completed – the poor driver couldn’t wait to get out of there as Sandor glared hatefully at him the entire time – he locked up and went to see Bronn.

 

Bronn guessed something was up and when Sandor told him where he was going later, he crowed with delight.  When he started giving Sandor advice, Sandor told him to fuck off as he wasn’t some sort of virgin who didn’t know what he was doing.  Bronn just calmly pointed out that he didn’t have any sort of feelings for his previous flings, so this was a big deal.  Sandor reluctantly admitted that Bronn was right.

 

After taking Stranger for a quick run at the local park, he stood in front of his wardrobe and agonised over what shirt to wear.  He was so used to wearing his work clothes and casual clothes on the weekends that he didn’t know what was appropriate for a night like this. 

 

In the end, he picked out a white shirt with thin, pale blue pinstripes that his sister had given him for Christmas. 

 

He was checking that there weren’t any obvious creases when the door opened.  Looking up, he felt that familiar ache as well as the lack of air as he took in Sansa’s appearance.

 

Standing barefoot in the glow of the light behind her, her body was outlined through the thin material of her dress.  Her hair was floating around her shoulders, their only adornment other than the straps.  He could smell the light fragrance of lemons that she seemed to favour and which was quickly becoming his favourite too.

 

Sandor’s gaze ran over her face, taking in her soft lips before meeting her eyes, which shone with welcome and the knowledge of what would transpire tonight.

 

“Hi, Sandor,” she greeted breathily.

 

“Uh, hi Lit…um, Sansa,” he replied, kicking himself for acting like a boy on his first date.

 

“I like ‘Little Bird’,” she told him.  “I mean, you can call me Sansa, but I…”

 

Sandor smirked, relieved that she was chirping nervously herself.  It made him more relaxed that they were both in the same state.

 

“Here, I brought you these,” he said, pulling a bunch of daisies from behind his back.  “You…you look beautiful.”

 

If the look of delight on Sansa’s face at his gift was how she always reacted, he would gladly give her flowers every day of his life. 

 

“Oh, Sandor!  They’re lovely!  That’s so sweet of you,” she cried, beaming up at him as she took the flowers and buried her nose in them.  “Thank you.  I love them.”  Reaching up, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.

 

Once again, the thrill of desire raced through them both.  The quick peck turned into a sensual kiss, full of promise.  Sandor was the first to pull back.

 

“Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested huskily, realising they were in full view of the road.

 

Sansa blushed, and with a light giggle, stood back to let him into her home.   

 

As he passed her, she took the opportunity to ogle his backside, lovingly encased in the denim.  In fact, his whole appearance surprised her.  After seeing him only in work clothes, he looked remarkably suave.  His shirt was tightly stretched across his shoulders, straining at the seams, the rolled up cuffs emphasising the strength and shapeliness of his forearms and his jeans just made his long legs look even longer.

 

All in all, Sandor looked scrumptious.

 

“Take a seat, Sandor.  I’ll just put these in water.  Have you eaten?  Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she searched her cupboards for a vase.

 

Sandor took in the open-plan room which encompassed the kitchen, eating nook, and living area.  It was light and airy.  Very Sansa. 

 

“Nice place,” he said, admiring the view.  Of Sansa stretching up to grab a glass vase.   “Need help?” he asked softly,  coming to stand close behind her, inhaling her scent.

 

Sansa sighed softly as she pressed back against him so that practically his whole body touched hers.  Reaching up, he took hold of both the vase and her hand, neither moving. 

 

As had happened at the house, they were once again drawn into that desire-filled bubble where time seemed to stand still.

 

Sandor was the first to move, tenderly bussing the skin of her shoulder before gliding his mouth up to her throat, his open-mouthed kiss causing Sansa’s head to fall back onto his shoulder, giving him full access.

 

Vase totally forgotten, he kissed her creamy throat, his tongue tracing the faint throbbing pulse.  He had taken hold of her waist, gently squeezing and stroking as he savoured her, her soft little moans the only sound in the room.

 

As Sansa turned her head, searching for his mouth, his hands slid upwards and cupped her breasts, swallowing her faint gasp of pleasure.  As they kissed, he kneaded her breasts, which filled his large hands perfectly, the material of her underwear sliding over the sensitised nipples.  When she raised her arm to cup his face, Sandor had even greater access.

 

“Oh, Sandor,” she breathed as his fingers gently tweaked and pulled on both nipples, clearly outlined now in their arousal. 

 

For several minutes, they stood at the kitchen counter, kissing and caressing, Sansa pushing back into his hardness as she reached back around to fondle his backside as much as possible while Sandor feasted on her mouth and neck.

 

“Little Bird,” he growled into her ear, making her shudder in delight.  “I want you so much.”  Taking her sensitive earlobe in his mouth he sucked and nibbled, loving her little gasps.

 

With a moan, Sansa pulled away enough to turn in his arms, pulling his head back to her, kissing him deeply, urgently.  Running out of breath, she released his mouth, panting heavily.  Giving him a smile full of promise, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom, Sandor following like a devoted puppy.

 

Her bedroom was like her, feminine and airy, mainly in white with splashes of colour via the pillows and furnishings.  Sandor vaguely registered this as he closed the door behind him.

 

For a brief moment, he was assailed with doubt, now that he was finally going to sleep with his little bird.  Would he be able to satisfy her?  What if he inadvertently hurt her?  What if she was disappointed with him?

 

All doubts fled the moment she dropped the dress, standing only in some sort of pink, one-piece lacy thing that made her skin glow and barely hid anything behind the sheer material.  She looked both the picture of innocence and temptation at the same time.  His already hard cock positively throbbed at the sight of her.

 

“ _Fuck me!_ ” he breathed throatily, unable to believe he was allowed touch something that beautiful.

 

“That’s the idea, Sandor,” she joked lightly, elated at his response to her.  “I think you’re overdressed.”  When Sandor nodded in a daze, she reached out.  “Let me do it.”

 

This was what she had wanted since the moment he walked into her shop and it seemed almost surreal that she was about to touch him, caress him, enjoy his magnificent body.  Share this intimacy with him.

 

With his hands stroking her silk-covered skin, she unbuttoned his shirt, kissing every bit of exposed skin.  Once completely undone, she pushed the material off his shoulders, thrilling at the firmness of his torso, steel encased in the softness of skin and hair.  He groaned softly, hands urgently kneading her breasts as she traced every dip and hollow with her hands and mouth.  As her mouth sucked his puckered little nipple into her mouth, he gave a loud gasp of pleasure.  That spurred her to give its twin the same treatment before moving down, tongue laving the grooves of his chiselled abdomen.

 

Quickly undoing his belt and zip, she pushed the denim down, leaving only his straining black boxer briefs.  Sansa bit her lip at the evidence of his desire.  She palmed him over the material, Sandor’s erection jumping in her hand. 

 

Taking a breath, she pulled down the final barrier, his cock springing free of its confines and she couldn’t help her gasp.  He was exquisite.  Large, in proportion with the rest of him, his cock stood proudly from its nest of dark curls and nicely rounded balls, thick and deliciously veined, the dark-pink head weeping a little with Sandor’s arousal.

 

Hesitating a moment, not having done this in years, and not enjoying then either, Sansa knew this was totally different.  She _wanted_ this, wanted _him_.

 

Lowering herself to her knees as one hand took a firm hold of him, she leaned forward and delicately licked the head, tasting him for the first time.

 

“ _Little Bird!  Fuck!_ ”  he gasped, his hands reaching for her.  “You d…don’t…h…ha…have…to!”  His lips said one thing but his eyes were practically begging for her mouth.

 

“Shh, Sandor,” she replied.  “Let me.  I want to.”

 

His head falling back in defeat, Sansa’s tongue traced the thick vein that ran from the base of his cock nearly up to the head a couple of times before engulfing him in her mouth as far as she could.  His size meant there was still a lot of him left over, so she used her hand to stroke him, the other cupping his balls, gently squeezing.

 

“ _Fuck!  Oh, shit!_ ” Sandor groaned, his hands grabbing handfuls of her fiery hair but being careful not to pull on it.  “Little Bird, that’s…”

 

“Mmm…” was all she could respond with, absolutely loving the taste of him, licking up each drop, elation coursing through her at having this giant of a man becoming absolute putty in her hands.  She quickly developed a rhythm of sucking and stroking in tandem.  With one hand she reached down and felt between her legs, astounded at how wet she was, never having realised how much pleasure she could get from giving _him_ pleasure. 

 

Sansa was enjoying herself so much that when he gently pulled his cock out of her mouth, she couldn’t help pouting up at him.

 

Sandor chuckled breathlessly.  “As much as I loved that, Little Bird, if you keep it up, this will be over pretty soon.  At least for now.  It’s been a long time.”

 

Standing up, she kissed him, his wet cock pressing insistently into her stomach.  “For me too,” she told him, caressing his scars.  “How long?”

 

Hands on her arse, he ground himself into her before he spoke.  “Over six months.  You?”

 

“Years,” she replied

 

Sandor looked at her with astonishment.  “What’s wrong with the men of Sydney?  The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met … wow.”  He just shook his head. 

 

Taking hold of her shoulders, he pushed the straps of her teddy down, the silky material falling to pool at her feet, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. 

 

Sandor sucked in his breath, awe in eyes as he looked at her.  “Little Bird, you…what are doing with someone like me?”

 

Pulling him down for another kiss, Sansa gave him a mock frown.  “I like you.  I want you.  So take me.”

 

Taking a step, Sandor quickly realised he still had his jeans and underpants around his ankles.  “Get on the bed, Little Bird,” he rasped, as he completely stripped.

 

Sansa lay back on her elbows, like some goddess demanding worship.  Worship he was more than happy to give.  He stood at the foot of bed for a moment, taking in the perfection of her body, her rounded breasts, the feminine dip of her waist, those long, long legs and finally, her mound, shaved with just a tiny patch of red hair. 

 

Sandor’s mouth watered.

 

Like some sort of predator, he climbed on the bed, eyes never leaving hers, as he covered her body with his.  Warm skin melded together as he kissed her deeply, careful not to rest his whole weight on her.

 

As much as Sandor wanted to be inside his Little Bird, he also wanted to savour the feast laid out before him, despite Sansa thrusting her hips up, driving his already painfully hard erection almost to the brink.

 

Leaning back, he made his way down her body, licking, nipping and sucking as much skin as he could reach, spurred on by her sexy little gasps and moans.  He took some time at her breasts, feasting on them like a man starved, pushing the pebbled tips together so he could suckle on them both. 

 

Reluctantly moving on, he kissed the curves and dips of her torso, before moving to her feet, leaving his main prize for last.  Kissing his way up and down each leg, stroking her satiny inner thighs, learning that Sansa had a ticklish spot behind her knee, he gently pushed her legs apart, revealing all of her to his lustful gaze.

 

Fuck, but she had the prettiest cunny he’d ever seen! 

 

He did nothing but stare at the pink, petal-like folds, admiring the artistry of the female body.  Reaching out with one finger, he traced the outer lips, already slippery with her arousal, watching Sansa’s face for her reaction.  Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, nipples erect and flushed.

 

“So pretty,” he murmured.

 

Parting her folds, he rubbed his finger up and down over her opening, teasing the engorged bud before gently pushing his finger into her, Sansa’s loud moan, as well as another surge of wetness, signalling her approval.  

 

Needing to taste her sweetness, he ran his tongue over her, circling her clit lazily before moving to thrust his tongue into her.

 

“ _Oh god!_ ” cried Sansa, back arching off the bed and fingers gripping the bedcovers.

 

When he sucked her clit into his mouth, Sandor almost had to hold Sansa down, smiling to himself.  She was so responsive.  He loved it! 

 

Determined to watch his Little Bird lose control, he suckled her as he pushed his finger back into her, massaging her tight walls.   She got louder and louder as she neared her climax, her hands gripping Sandor’s hair.   

 

“ _Sandor!  Oh, fuuuuck!_ ” she keened as her orgasm washed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of sensation as Sandor thirstily drank up her gush of arousal.

 

Sansa eyes rolled in her head as wave after wave of bliss took over her body.  She still hadn’t quite come down when Sandor raised himself over her, beard damp from her juices. Rubbing his weeping cock over her opening, he covered himself in her arousal, making her shiver despite just having come.

 

“I need to fuck you now, Little Bird,” he panted.

 

Sansa pointed to the box of condoms on the bedside table, Sandor grabbing one and hastily putting it on.

 

Opening her legs even further, Sandor accepted her invitation and lowered himself down into the cradle of her hips, pushing into her, both of them gasping at the sense of relief at finally being joined.

 

 _Oh god, it felt so good!_   It took him a few thrusts to completely bury himself to the hilt inside her, stretching her in a delicious way.  Sansa wrapped her arms and legs around him, not wanting him to ever leave her body if this is what good, no, spectacular, sex felt like.

 

For a few heartbeats, they were still, looking into each other’s eyes, as they relished the feel of his body inside hers and letting her adjust to his size.  

 

“You feel so good inside me,” she whispered.

 

In response, Sandor kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth before shifting his hips a little, testing her readiness.

 

“ _Yes!_ ” 

 

Receiving his answer, Sandor pulled back slowly before plunging back into her, gritting his teeth as her tight walls gripped his cock.  He tried to go slow, but his body refused to co-operate and his hips were soon rapidly driving in and out of his Little Bird, her keening cries of delight spurring him on.

 

“Fuck, Little…Bird,”  he panted.  “I’m…close.”

 

“Me…oh yes…too,” came the halting reply.

 

Lifting himself onto his hands, he looked down at her as he fucked her, watching her breasts bounce with each frantic thrust, eyes closed as her head thrashed around on the pillow, her hair a messy cloud around her head.  She was a picture of carnal wantonness.

 

Sandor felt his cock grow even harder, signalling his impending climax.  He wanted to stay inside her forever, but it had been a long time since he’d last had sex and his cock was too impatient.  This time.

 

“I’m cumming,” he ground out.

 

“Mmmm….yes…oh god… _yes!_ ”

 

Her words were the final impetus he needed.  He fucked into her a couple more times, hard enough to rock the entire bed until she cried out.

 

“ _Sandor!  Yessss!!  AHHH!!!_ ” 

 

Her climax triggered his own, her walls clenching and unclenching on his cock.  With a loud grunt, he plunged one last time, buried himself to the hilt and came inside her with such force he felt light-headed.  Pulse after pulse of his seed was pumped into the condom, until, with a final spurt, he collapsed onto her, burying his face in her neck, completely spent.

 

Neither could say anything for  a while, just remaining locked together until their bodies calmed down enough for their brains to re-start, lungs desperately trying to get the air that their orgasms had stolen from them.

 

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Sandor lifted his sweaty face and looked into her equally flushed and sweaty one and gave her a soft peck on the lips.

 

“Wow, Little Bird,” he smiled, still breathless.

 

Sansa smiled back.  “Yeah, wow!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'm not a smoker, but I could do with a ciggie about now!
> 
> We're coming to the end of this fic, maybe another chapter or two and epilogue, as it was never meant to be too long but I'll let you know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this a one-time thing or the beginning of a beautiful relationship? Let's find out. There be some smut ahead, too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my lovelies, as Boyz to Men sang, we are coming to the "end of the road" with this fic. And I'm probably showing my age now, lol. This is the last regular chapter but I will be adding an epilogue to wrap things up in a lovely little bow! I hope you enjoy this one.

Sansa was idly running her fingers along Sandor’s upper thigh and bum, enjoying the peaceful interlude.

 

“Are these scars from the skin grafts?”

 

Sandor’s voice was muffled by the pillow as he lay on his stomach, trying to recover his strength after three rounds of sex.

 

Once they regained their senses somewhat after that incredible first time, Sansa had suggested she make them something to eat.  Fully intending to have her again, Sandor had agreed that they needed to keep up their strength, making Sansa laugh.

 

Sansa, wearing nothing but his shirt made his sated cock twitch, unable to quite reach its former heights, willing though it was.  It was only a matter of time though.

 

Having prepared a couple of pizzas earlier, Sansa put them in the oven before pouring them both a glass of wine, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Sandor in only his jeans.  Already she was tingling with anticipation of having him inside her again. 

 

After only one time, Sansa was addicted to him. 

 

Bending over to get the pizzas out, Sandor caught sight of her bare cunny and all weariness left him.  Once she placed the pizzas on the bench, Sandor grabbed her from behind and ground his erection into her, announcing his lustful intentions.

 

With a moan, Sansa bent over an empty spot on the bench, once again dripping wet with excitement and looked back at him, pure invitation in her smile. 

 

Not needing another hint, Sandor thrust into her, her previous orgasms making her nice and slippery, and proceeded to fuck her senseless, pure animalistic grunts and groans the only sounds in the room.  

 

Afterwards, having cleaned themselves up, they sat down to eat their, by now, cool pizzas.  As they ate, he apologised for not using a condom, promising that he was clean and that he would never endanger her health like that.  Reassuring him that she was also healthy and that she was on the pill, they agreed not to use them.  Sansa had enjoyed the bare feel of him too much.

 

All this talk inevitably led to more sex, this time back in her rumpled bed. 

 

Sandor was somewhat amazed that he was able to fuck her this many times in one night.  He was far from being a teenage boy, but his Little Bird made him feel as horny as one.  Admittedly, it took longer for him to come that third time, not that Sansa was complaining.  The marks on his shoulders attested to that fact.

 

“Aye, that’s where they took skin to use on my face.  It’s a nice, big area to harvest, according to the surgeons,” he replied, turning his head to look at her.

 

God, but she was gorgeous. 

 

Hair a wild, fiery mess, lips swollen from all their kisses and fair skin marked here and there from being sucked on or squeezed a little too hard in the heat of passion.  She looked like she’d been soundly and thoroughly fucked.

 

Sandor couldn’t help feeling proud that he was the one to make her look like that.

 

He wanted to be the only one to make her look like that.  Ever.

 

“Did it hurt?  When they took the skin, I mean?” she asked.

 

“Aye, it felt raw until it healed over.  But my face hurt worse, so it was the lesser of the two evils.”

 

Clucking her tongue in sympathy, Sansa bent down and gave each scar a tender kiss, as if hoping her care would make the bad memories better.

 

Sandor shut his eyes, not willing to let her see the moisture that welled in them.  Other than his sister and aunt, no woman had ever shown him such tenderness and empathy.  It was as if she felt his past hurts personally.

 

This _had_ to be more than just fucking.  Didn’t it?

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through such a thing and at such a young age,” she said, softly stroking his leg.  “I think you are the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

 

“Ah, Little Bird.  I’m not brave.  Police, soldiers and fire fighters are brave.  They put their lives on the line each day.  I just had to endure and hope that the surgeons did a good job.  And it’s in the past now anyway.  Don’t fret for me.”

 

“I still think you’re brave, Sandor.  And the surgeons did a fine job, in my opinion.”

 

“I’ll never grace the cover of a beauty magazine, I suppose, but it could be worse.  I’m just glad the technology existed to fix some of the damage.  If I lived in the middle ages, I’d have been fucked, for sure,” he remarked.

 

“I’d still have found you attractive,” replied Sansa.

 

“ _Sure_ , Little Bird,” came the sarcastic reply.   “’Cause maidens would have been falling all over themselves for my attention.  My face would have probably scared the shit out of women and small children.  That’s if I even survived the burn in the first place.”

 

“Okay, point taken.  But, I have to admit, Sandor, that the first thing that I noticed was not your face or scars.”

 

Turning to his side, head resting on his palm, he smirked at her.  “Really?  And what was?”

 

Sansa, grinning with mischief, leaned over him to whisper in his ear, her breasts hanging invitingly in front of him.   “ _Your tool belt_.”

 

Rearing back, Sandor looked at her in astonishment.  “My… _what?_ ”

 

Bursting into a fit of giggles, Sansa threw herself back onto her pillow, her whole body shaking in her mirth.  “Oh, I wish you could see your face right now!” she gasped.

 

Sandor let her laugh, shaking his head in puzzlement.  He was enjoying the view, though.

 

When she settled down to only a few laughing hiccups, he asked the question.  “My tool belt?  What the…?”

 

Turning, Sansa cupped his face, her eyes still smiling.  “When you walked in my café, with your tool belt slung over your hips like some medieval swordsman, I nearly died of lust then and there.  You were so damn sexy and you wouldn’t believe the naughty fantasies I’ve had involving you, your tool belt, and nothing else.”

 

To say Sandor was floored, was an understatement.  He’d never dreamed he’d had that effect on her.

 

“That’s why I was such a klutz around you.  I’m not normally like that, you know.  It’s just you.  I wanted you so badly, I could hardly see straight.”

 

Sandor shook his head slowly.  “Wow, Little Bird.  I don’t know what to say, except, I was really, _really_ glad I wore the belt that day as you gave me the biggest boner when I first saw you.  That damned thing stopped me from getting arrested, I figure.”

 

“If I’d seen you in that…erm…state, I probably would have fainted.  And then I’d have bailed you out just so I could blackmail you into shagging me rotten.”

“Like tonight?”  His voice lowered huskily.

 

“No blackmail required here, I think,” she smirked, looking down at his cock, which by rights should have been comatose, but goddam, she set him on fire.

 

“No, definitely not,” he rasped, leaning over to kiss her, lips sliding sensually over each other as his hand moved up to cup her breast, squeezing gently. 

 

Sansa had her own idea of where she wanted this go, pushing on his shoulders until he lay back on the pillow again.

 

“What are you going to do with me, Little Bird?” he rasped sexily.

 

“Just you wait and see,” she breathed.  “I’m in charge now, Mr Sexy Tradie or I will be forced to blackmail you.”

 

“Be gentle,” he mocked, smirking up at her, his blood heating at her show of dominance.

 

“Mmm, we’ll see,” she murmured as she leaned over him, pressing her lips to his before sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, gently biting on it. 

 

She then proceeded to press soft, open-mouthed kisses all over his face, lingering the longest on the scarred side before moving down over his throat on a downward trajectory.

 

Sandor couldn’t help the low growls his throat made as she drove him crazy. 

 

Sansa took her time, lingering here and there, kissing one spot of his torso then sucking on another.  Her movements were slow and erotic, stoking the fire that he’d thought exhausted back to life.

 

Taking his hand in hers, she kissed the work-roughened palm, licking between the fingers before taking each one into her mouth and sucking on it, her eyes never leaving his.

 

Sandor thought his heart would burst of out of his chest – either that, or have a heart attack.  As much as he loved being inside her, Sansa sucking on his fingers was the most intimate thing he’d ever experienced.  It blew his mind to the point that a tiny whimper escaped him.

 

Sansa smiled like the cat who got the cream, taking his other hand and giving it the same treatment.

 

“Little Bird!”  He reached up with his free hand, but she batted it away.

 

“No, not yet!” she scolded him lightly.  “I’m still in charge.”

 

“You’re killing me, baby.”   He didn’t even notice the endearment he’d used, nor did he notice her small start at his words.

 

“Good.  I’m not even close to done yet,” she smirked at his mock groan.

 

True to her word, she lingered over his torso, stroking and kissing, even nibbling on occasion.  It was like she was feasting on him, savouring every bit.

 

Her hand reached down and took his semi-erect cock in her hand, its previous bouts of lovemaking having taken their toll.

 

“Going to be stubborn, are you?” she murmured to it, making Sandor grin.  “We’ll see about that.”

 

Taking it as a personal challenge, Sansa moved to kneel down between his legs, huffily pushing her long hair back.

 

By now, Sandor was lying with his hands behind his head, anticipating her efforts to bring him back to full mast.  Admittedly, just that was having an effect on him.

 

“That’s better.  Let’s see what I can do to help things along,” she purred, taking it in her hand again.

 

“Would you like me to leave you two alone?” he joked.

 

Sansa grinned and shook her head.  “Oh no.  I definitely want this to be a threesome.”

 

Sandor burst out laughing.  Fucking hell, she was perfect!  He didn’t know that sex could be fun as well as a means of meeting sexual urges.  He’d never experienced it before.

 

His laugh turned to a loud moan when she bent forward and slowly took him in her mouth, her hair teasing his already sensitised nerves. 

 

Sansa, kneeling between his legs, swollen red lips around his cock and a halo of messy hair was enough to do the business.  His tired, worn cock sprung to attention like it was the first time tonight.

Letting go with a small pop, much to his disappointment, Sansa smiled with satisfaction.  “There.  That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

“It is now, Little Bird.”

 

“Good!”

 

With that, Sansa took to her task with enthusiasm.  For what seemed like hours, she played with his cock, alternating licking up and down his weeping shaft like she was eating ice-cream with taking him in her mouth, suckling on him until he was begging for relief.  When she took his heavy balls in her mouth, he almost wept with frustration. 

 

“Fuck!  You’re…killing…me,” he ground out, hand clenched on Sansa’s headboard so hard he was in danger of snapping it.

 

Looking at him, pupils so huge with arousal that only a rim of blue was visible, Sansa slowly, maddeningly slowly, licked from base to tip one last time before sitting up, a predatory look on her face.

 

“You’ve been a good boy, Sandor,” she purred.  “Time for a reward, I think.”

 

With slow, deliberate movements, she crawled up his body, purposely allowing his rigid cock to drag along the skin of her torso until it lay directly at her opening. 

 

“Please, Little Bird!”

 

Finally answering his pleas, Sansa lowered herself down until she was fully impaled on him and sat up, moaning softly at the change in angle.

 

Reaching for his hands, Sansa entwined their fingers as she began leisurely undulating back and forth, dragging almost primal groans from his throat. 

 

Eyes and hands locked together, Sansa drawing every ounce of pleasure his body contained, Sandor’s mind was blown away by the eroticism of the moment.  The eroticism of his Little Bird.

 

He couldn’t give this up.  He wouldn’t.

 

When Sansa placed his hands on her breasts, he obediently fondled them as her movements sped up, the deep blush spreading over her body, signalling her oncoming climax, her whimpers of delight getting louder and louder.

 

Tweaking her nipples, pulling on them a little roughly,  was the catalyst for her orgasm.

 

Head thrown back, her long hair brushing his thighs, the same thighs her delicate hands gripped with a strength she probably didn’t know she had, Sansa cried out, her hips having lost all sense of co-ordinated movement, simply needing to prolong the ecstasy for as long as possible.

 

Watching her from below, lost to her bliss, it got too much for Sandor and with a loud growl, he exploded within her, his own hands gripping her hips as he pulled her down onto his cock, not a breath of space between them. 

 

Despite the amount of times he’d come this night, Sandor was slightly shocked by how strong this last climax was.  It seemed to be longer and stronger than all the others.

 

Sansa flopped down onto him, his arms instantly embracing her as they fought to catch their breaths.

 

Neither said anything for several minutes, too much in a daze for something so mundane as words.  

 

After an eternity, Sandor glanced at her clock radio and sighed.  He was enjoying feeling her little puffs of breath on his throat.  His worn-out cock was basking in the warmth of her, despite the stickiness.

 

“Little Bird?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“It’s getting real late and we both have to work in the morning.”

 

“Mmm, I like it here,” she grumbled tiredly.

 

Slowly stroking her back, Sandor grinned.  “Me too, Little Bird.  More than anything.”

 

Lifting her head, Sansa smiled at him, her eyes red from exhaustion.  “Really?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Sandor decided there was no better time than now to ask her what he had wanted to since he knocked on her door earlier.   “Aye.”  Taking her hand, he blurted out, “Willyouhavedinnerwithme?”  Now _he_ was the bumbling one!

 

“What was that?” laughed Sansa.

 

Clearing his throat nervously, he repeated his question.  “Will you have dinner with me?  I…I really, really like you, Sansa.  Tonight has been… It’s been amazing.”  He could feel himself blush like a schoolboy.  “I don’t want tonight to be a one-off.   I mean…I mean, not just for sex, though that would be good too…but to spend time with you…to get to know you better.  You know…”  his voice trailed off, figuring he’d blown his chance.  Sansa’s soft giggle didn’t help either.

 

Caressing his face, Sansa looked down at him, a huge smile on her face.  “Oh Sandor!  I would love nothing better than to have dinner with you and to get to know you better too.  I think…I think we may have something really special.  And the sex…” she just shook her head in amazement.

 

“Yeah, the sex…” he agreed, grinning right back at her.  “Friday night good for you?”  He’d have to grill Bronn on where to take her.  Somewhere classy, but fun, not too formal but not too casual.  Fuck, what had he done!

 

“That’s perfect.  And as I don’t work in the café on Saturday, you…you can stay…over.  If you want to,” she replied.

 

“I want to.  Very much,” he murmured as he gave her another kiss.

 

Before things got too far, though Sandor didn’t believe his cock could so much as give another whimper after their marathon effort tonight, he pulled himself away, not without much regret.  Only the thought that he would spend all night with her on Friday gave him the strength to get out of Sansa’s bed.

 

After a quick shower together, in which nothing happened because neither had the energy left, but with whispered promises for next time, Sandor stood at her door, preparing to leave. 

 

To end the best night of his life.  So far.

 

Giving her one last, lingering kiss, he opened the door, turning at the last moment.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Little Bird.”

 

“One double-shot espresso, black, and two chocolate croissants?” she teased.

 

Grinning, he winked at her. 

 

“Better make that three, Little Bird.  I’ve developed quite a hunger for them lately.”

 

Her happy laughter rang in his ears all the way home.

 

       

_FIN_

 

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left!


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What have our lovers gotten up to? Let's find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where to start to thank all of you who have made my first foray into SanSan such an enjoyable and welcoming experience. I don't think I've found such a lovely group of people in any fandom. It's been an absolute pleasure getting to know you, reading your comments and just knowing that I've given you some pleasure with my story. Thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and everyone who simply read it. I hope you enjoy this epilogue, full of fluff and sweetness!

_Six months later_

 

“Hey, you ready to roll?”

 

Sansa looked around her apartment at all the neatly stacked boxes ready for transport.

 

“I think so, Margaery.  Can you do a quick check for me, just to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything?”

 

“Sure thing.  It’s no big deal if you do.  I’ll just get it from our real estate agent if something turns up.”  Taking Sansa’s hand, Margaery grinned at her.  “Ready for this step, Sans?”

 

Nodding her head vigorously, Sansa’s smile was glowing.  “Yep.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this ready for anything.  I can’t wait to finally live with Sandor.”

 

Today was the day Sansa was moving in with her boyfriend, Sandor - and his dog.

 

After their explosive first night together, the two quickly became virtually inseparable, seeing each other as often as humanly possible, considering his job and her shop. 

 

Sansa still laughed when she remembered their first date.  Sandor had turned up with a bouquet of roses and took her to a restaurant in the city.  It had turned into something of a comedy of errors.

 

He had apologised for only having his ute to drive her in her finery, worried about ruining the silky dress she wore.  Sansa had reassured him that it was fine.  When they passed some road works, they felt a sharp bump.  Suspecting the worst, Sandor hopped out and swore like a sailor when he saw his tyre had a puncture. 

 

Changing the tyre on his beast of a vehicle was no mean feat, with Sandor getting marks on his shirt, despite his best efforts.  Sansa offered to help but he refused and continued, swearing the whole time.  She had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing at some the colourful phrases used.

 

Of course, they were subsequently late to the restaurant, neither thinking to ring and advise them of the circumstances.  Upon arrival, Sandor, dishevelled and self-conscious, nearly lost it when told that their table had been given to other diners as it was assumed they were not coming.  Only Sansa’s hand on his arm, assuring him that they could go somewhere else, calmed him down.

 

Getting back in the ute, Sandor slumped onto the steering wheel, convinced that he had ruined everything and she would send him packing.

 

Sansa slid across the bench seat, wrapped her arm around Sandor’s back and turned him to face her before giving him a tender kiss, saying that she didn’t need fancy restaurants and what she really craved was some good, old fashioned fish and chips, eaten by the water.

 

Sitting on the harbour foreshore, munching on greasy battered fish and vinegar-drowned chips, the water reflecting the lights of the city buildings and the myriad of sailing vessels and Sandor’s arm around her, Sansa couldn’t imagine a better first date.    

 

Followed by another amazing night of sex with Sandor.  It was the early hours when they finally fell asleep, Sansa safely cradled within his arms. 

 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall headlong into love.

 

They were walking Stranger, holding hands, when Sansa blurted out, “I love you, Sandor”, unable to contain her feelings for a moment longer, so consumed by them as she was.

 

Sandor had stopped in his tracks, stared at her for a few heartbeats before taking her face in his hands and whispering “I love you too, Little Bird,” his grey eyes shining with happiness and kissing her passionately, as if trying to pour all his feelings into it. 

 

The kiss only ended when Stranger, fed up with waiting for his two humans to stop trying to eat each other’s faces (sniffing bums and tails was much better in his opinion), pushed his wet snout between their bodies and snuffled impatiently.  It worked, as their walk continued, much to Stranger’s satisfaction.

 

They spent every weekend together, more and more often at Sandor’s house, about a twenty minute drive away, due to Stranger.  Sansa didn’t really have anywhere for the big dog to stay other than inside her apartment, which wasn’t ideal for any of them.

 

She loved his house.  It was an old federation-style house in the suburb of Concord.  Being an older suburb, the trees were large and well-established and his street was very leafy and quiet.  He also had a big backyard for Stranger, though the dog believed that he should live inside like the other humans and was frequently found snoozing in a sunny spot inside, much to Sandor’s chagrin.

 

Sandor had completely renovated the inside, so it was light and modern with a great patio area that Sansa could see being used for outdoor entertaining, once summer returned.

 

His bed was enormous, made to fit a man his size but they inevitably ended up entwined together in the middle, though neither complained, especially now in the cold of winter.  Sandor was her own personal heating system, she liked to joke.

   

About a month before, when Sandor was dragging himself out of her bed to head home as it was a weekday, he turned to see Sansa gaze sleepily up him and could read in her eyes how much she didn’t want him to go, despite the necessity. 

 

On impulse he took her hand.  “Move in with me, Little Bird.”  Sansa just stared at him in shock.  “I…I know it might be too soon for you, but, dammit, I’m sick of leaving you or watching you leave me.  I love you.  I want to be with you.  Every night.”  Taking a gulp, he continued,  “We’re together every spare moment we can be, anyway.  We eat together most nights, spend the whole weekend with each other.  Fuck, half my wardrobe is filled with your clothes.  What do you say?”

 

The silence was excruciating until Sansa flung herself into his arms, kissing him all over his face.  “Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  I really want to live with you.  I love you so much.  I hate when you leave too.  Oh Sandor, I can’t wait!”

 

As it turned out, they had to wait nearly a month before Sansa could move in, what with giving notice to her landlord, in this case, Margaery’s family real estate agent and couple of building jobs that Sandor already had booked that required weekend work. 

 

They used the time to inform their families of their new upcoming living arrangements.

 

Sansa had met Sandor’s sister, Eleanor, a couple of weeks after they became a couple, when she had invited them over for dinner, excited that Sandor had found someone that she hoped would love him as he deserved.

 

Eleanor’s home, with her husband David, her two children, Maeve and Rhys and their baby girl, Alana, was loud and rambunctious and Sansa loved it.  It reminded her of growing up with her brothers and sister and the mayhem that would often ensue when together.

 

Sansa and Eleanor got on like a house on fire and she fell in love with baby Alana, in whose features she could see her beloved Sandor and couldn’t help wondering if any child of theirs would resemble him.  She quickly shook the thought away but it lingered in the recesses of her mind.   Sansa wished she could have met Sandor’s aunt Agatha, but she had sadly passed away a couple of years before.

 

Sandor’s meeting with her family had been a more subdued affair, seeing as how only Bran and Rickon were still living at home, though Sandor had already met Arya at Sansa’s home.  As Winterfell was about three hours drive away, Sansa had informed her parents that she was bringing her boyfriend to meet them and that they would stay the night.

 

Her parents had been a little taken aback upon first seeing Sandor.  To their credit, they had quickly recovered and greeted him cordially, welcoming him to their home.  The usual subtle grilling of Sandor, his background and prospects and all the other important things parents want to know of the man who’s dating their daughter occurred, with Sandor handling it all rather admirably, Sansa thought.

 

On their own in the kitchen while Ned and Sandor discussed the intricacies of the new rugby league season, Catelyn asked Sansa if she was sure this relationship was right for her, pointing out that Sandor was just a carpenter.

 

“Mum, he has his own successful business.  And he’s not just a carpenter, he’s an artist.  You should see some of the houses he’s done, including his own.  And I’m just a shopkeeper, after all,” pointed out Sansa.

 

Catelyn sighed.  “I know.  I’m just being a mum.  I want to know that my little girl is happy.  After what happened…”

 

“I am, Mum.  Sandor makes me happy.  And all that mess with Joffrey was a long time ago.  I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone, not with the business and all, but when Sandor walked in, it..it was like getting hit by lightning.  He loves me and I love him.  It’s real and…and I think Sandor could be it, Mum.”

 

Tears misting her eyes, Catelyn stared at her daughter, reading the sincerity in her voice and pulled her into her arms.   Mother and daughter hugged for a few moments.   When they broke apart, they both had watery eyes and they began chuckling at their silliness.

 

“Let’s get dessert out, why don’t we?  Your father has been champing at the bit for some of my apple pie and your Sandor looks like he needs a lot of food to fuel that huge body,” declared Catelyn with a no-nonsense nod of her head.  

 

Sansa knew it meant that Catelyn had accepted Sandor and couldn’t keep the grin off her face, not even her father’s sideways looks when she took Sandor’s hand in hers and kissed him lightly on the lips upon returning to the table.

 

Over the last few months, Sandor had met the rest of Sansa’s family and they didn’t seem have an issue with him, but he was somewhat glad that they didn’t live in the next suburb! 

 

Now, Sandor and Bronn were bringing their utes to transport Sansa’s belongings.  Sandor’s house had three bedrooms, so he had assured her that there was room to store unneeded furniture if necessary and that Sansa could change whatever she wanted.  He didn’t much care, as long as his Little Bird made her nest with him.

 

“So, what’s going on with you and Bronn?  Are you ready to admit that it’s not just a casual thing anymore?” asked Sansa as they waited for the men.

 

Margaery and Bronn flirted outrageously for the first couple of months that their friends had gotten together, especially as they were thrown together quite often.  Sansa had asked her friend why she was hesitating, as Margaery usually had no qualms about taking new lovers.  The answer that Bronn was a bit of a player had surprised Sansa due to Margaery’s own history but left them to work it out themselves.

 

Even when they finally did became lovers Margaery insisted that it was not serious and they were just having fun together.  And it seemed so for a little while but they began spending more and more time together.  Sandor confided in her that Bronn had admitted to having feelings for Margaery but was too afraid to say anything as Margaery herself had not given any indication that she wanted to change the status quo.

 

When they all hung out together, Sansa watched her friend closely and saw the looks she gave Bronn and they certainly weren’t casual.  Talking to her didn’t help as Margaery could be as secretive as the CIA when she wanted to be.  She debated telling Margaery about Bronn’s feelings but decided against it, as it was not her secret to share. 

 

Margaery looked at her friend in surprise before taking a sip of her tea.  “Why do you think that?” she asked cagily.

 

“Oh, come on, Marge.  It’s as plain as the nose on your face that you really like Bronn.  You spend a lot of time together and I know it’s not just in bed.  You’ve been to concerts and movies together.  You regularly have dinner with him.  That sounds like a boyfriend to me.”

 

“You’re right,” sighed Margaery.  “I _do_ like him.  A lot.  I think I may be in love with him, even.”

 

“Then why don’t you tell him.”

 

“I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same.  He’s been such a player in the past, with his charm and wit.  He’s a complete flirt, but it’s unconscious with him.  He’d flirt with the old ladies at church if he went.”

 

“Do you think he would cheat on you?  Has he been with anyone else since you two started your fling?” asked Sansa curiously.

 

Margaery shook her head.  “No.  That’s the thing.  He hasn’t seen anyone except me since before we even hooked up.  At least, that’s what he says and I believe him.  He’s an outrageous flirt but he’s an honest one.”

 

“Sandor says the same and he’s known Bronn most of his life,” confirmed Sansa.  “Doesn’t that tell you something?  You’ve known him six months and he hasn’t been with another woman?  I think you need to have a talk with him.  Soon.”

 

“When you put it that way, I can’t help but agree with you.  It’s a scary thing, Sans.”

 

“I know, but if he feels the same way…there’s no better feeling in the world, Margaery,” sighed Sansa wistfully, thinking of her beloved tradie.

 

A knock on the door signalled the arrival of their men.  Sansa greeted Sandor with an exuberant kiss despite having seen him only that morning, having slept over as usual before going home to see to Stranger.

 

“Ready to move in with me, Little Bird?” he chuckled as he nuzzled her throat.

 

“Mmmm, definitely, my love.  Let’s go.  I can’t wait!”

 

The four them loaded Sansa’s things into the two vehicles, Sandor insisting the girls not carry any of the heavy furniture, especially down the stairs.  With a bit of effort and puzzle-solving skills, they managed to get everything into the vehicles. Sansa would follow behind with Margaery in her car.

 

Sansa closed the door on her apartment for the last time, a sense of nostalgia hitting her, but no regret, none whatsoever.  Sure, it would take longer to get to work but it was a small price to pay for the happiness of living with Sandor.

 

Whilst unloading back at _their_ house, Sandor insisting on the term, Arya turned up with Gendry and with all the hands on deck, it didn’t take all that long for Sansa to be settled in her new home. 

 

Luckily it was a sunny, if cold, day so Sandor lit the outdoor fire pit, ensuring the safety grill was in place and the six of them ate a late lunch/early dinner that Sansa had ordered. 

 

Sandor and Arya traded mock insults back and forth, while Sansa snuggled happily in his arms, the fire and their thick jumpers keeping her toasty warm.  Stranger was beside himself at having so many people to fuss over him and sneak him treats until he finally passed out at Sandor’s feet, snoring away. 

 

Bronn and Margaery sat close together, the intimate glances they shared leading Sansa to firmly believe that they would make their relationship official within a very short time.  She wanted her friend to be as happy as she was.

 

Arya asked if they planned to throw a house-warming party and though Sandor baulked at the thought of so many people in their house, if Sansa wanted it, he would bear it, for her.   There really wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his Little Bird, come to think of it.

 

“Maybe in a few months,” replied Sansa.  “When it warms up a bit.  We’ll see.”  She looked up at Sandor and gave him a reassuring smile.  If he was against it, then she’d settle for a dinner with her closest friends, including Jeyne, Lommy and Hotpie. 

 

After their guests left, Sandor led Sansa back outside and they sat in the glow of the fire, arms firmly around each other, the reality that they now lived together and neither would have to leave the other to go home only now setting in.

 

“Happy, Little Bird?” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

 

“Extremely,” sighed Sansa, tightening her grip.  “I love you, Sandor.”

 

Lifting her chin with his finger, Sandor kissed her tenderly for a long while.  “Love you too, Sansa.”   He started fumbling with something in his pocket but it was too dark to see what it was.  Once he found it, he let go of Sansa and to her shock, he moved off the seat and knelt down in front of her.

 

Sansa’s eyes widened in astonishment.  Sandor wasn’t…wasn’t…was he?

 

“Sansa, Little Bird,” he commenced, before clearing his throat nervously and taking her hand.  “I was going to wait, give it more time seeing as you just moved in with me, but…but, I can’t.”  Looking at her, grey eyes hopeful, he kissed her hand.  “Little Bird, I know that I will never love another woman after you.  I never expected to meet someone like you, and I know that I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.  You…you are everything to me.  My first and last thought is of you and pretty much most thoughts in between, to tell the truth.   Will you marry me, Little Bird?”

 

Before Sansa could reply he hurriedly continued.  “We don’t have to marry straight away.  We can wait as long as you like if you think it’s too soon.  I know I’m not what you probably had in mind for a husband, but I promise I’ll always love and care for you and any children we may have…one day…maybe…but only if you want them…”

 

Sansa placed her hand over his mouth, to stop his nervous babbling.  “Sandor…stop.”  She then took hold of his face and leaned toward him.  “Sandor, I would _love_ to marry you.  I love you and want nothing more than to be your wife.  And you’re exactly what I always wanted in a husband.  Someone who loves me completely.   And I know you’ll care for me like I’ll always care for you and our children, whenever they come.  And no, it’s not too soon.  I knew I wanted to be yours forever as soon as I realised I was in love with you.  So yes, Sandor, yes, I will marry you and as soon as you want.”

 

She had never seen Sandor’s face lit up like it was right now.  She could also detect a drop of moisture in those wonderful eyes of his.  Her breath was stolen from her when he moved to sit down and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her until they were both breathless with love and joy.

 

Pulling away first, Sandor opened his palm, a velvet ring box looking tiny in his huge hand.  “I…I hope you like it.  Eleanor helped me pick it out.  I don’t know shit about rings, to be honest.”

 

Taking the box, Sansa carefully opened it and gasped.  Inside lay a gorgeous diamond solitaire set between two smaller stones and a band that was also studded with tiny diamonds.

 

“Oh my!  It’s gorgeous, Sandor!” breathed Sansa, staring at the ring.  It was exactly the type of ring she would have chosen for herself.  It was delicate and feminine and not at all flashy.  “I love it, baby.  Here, put it on me.”

 

Sandor took the box from her hand and with all due seriousness, gently slid the ring onto her finger.  Sansa immediately lifted her hand to admire the ring, the light from the fire pit making the ring shine like a rainbow.

 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Sansa rubbed her nose against his.  “Thank you, my love.  I’m so happy, my husband-to-be.”

 

“I like the sound of that, my wife-to-be,” he chuckled before kissing her passionately.

 

Pulling back, Sansa gave her fiancé a sly grin.  “How about we go inside and celebrate our engagement?”

 

“I love how you think, Little Bird.”

 

“Do you have your tool belt handy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, I have a hankering to play with it,” she replied, winking saucily at him.  “And the tool within.”

 

Sandor chuckled throatily.  Standing up suddenly, his Little Bird in his arms, he carried her up to their bedroom and proceeded to show her exactly how handy with his tool he could be.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed that! 
> 
> I have all sorts of Sansan ideas floating around in my head (and in my notebook) so you will see me again (mwahahaha). I'm also writing some chapters in the 'Baratheon Brothers Presents...' next fic, set in a hospital and all the attendant craziness that happens in one of those fics, lol. I'm writing a grossly in love Robert and Cersei, can you imagine? Keep an eye out for that.
> 
> If you have any ideas for a Sansan fic, send them my way. I can't promise I'll use them, but you never know! 
> 
> Until next time - a big hug to all!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr name is @queenoferebor1204 though most of my stuff is Richard Armitage related, because that man is just....


End file.
